It’s been a month since I last wrote, and I wonder how you are doing with the state of things. Are you enjoying your time at home? Feeling overwhelmed, stressed or anxious? Maybe you are experiencing some depression and immobility. Perhaps you are feeling all of these things and more.
There is no right way to move through these days. Only that we do move through them. One day, one hour, sometimes one moment at a time.
Here at Kartchner Caverns in southeastern Arizona, the days are starting to heat up into the 90’s. The cave tours are still closed, but the full park staff is working because the trails and campground are open. On weekends, every camp site is occupied. The winter camp hosts have returned to their summer homes, so last week, we moved down into the upper campground’s camp host site to fill in, since our summer gig on the Oregon Coast is still on hold.
Our new camp site is paved, more level, and offers an expansive east-facing vista of the mountains and basin. After four and a half months in the upper volunteer village, it is so nice to have a new view, new places to walk, and more people to see, watch, and interact with.
Our hosting job is very easy. We clean campsites, make reservation tags, welcome campers, and do drive arounds in the golf cart to be a presence in the campground. With all of the CDC requirements, we maintain minimal and safe contact with our campers, we don’t collect money or sell firewood, and we don’t have to clean the fire pits or bathrooms.
When we’ve been camp hosts in the past, I was always in a hurry to get the job done. This time, I’m enjoying the meditation of raking the gravel around each fire pit, and looking for birds on the many drives around the loop to check on things. And I don’t even mind that some campers wait until check out time to pull out.
We share the camp hosting duties with our friends Jayne and Paul, who we met at our very first volunteering job at Cape Blanco in 2016. We work three days, and then we have three days off and they work. This way we take turns covering the busy weekends.
We are still going to the donkey sanctuary once a week to brush the donkeys. I am so surprised by how much I connect with these beautiful animals, how comfortable I am being in the pen alone with them, despite the fact that they are so big and strong. It’s like we have a silent communication, a mutual curiosity and respect.
They say donkeys have incredible memories, that they remember people after just one encounter. I think it’s true, because, after four weeks, when I approach most of the donkeys, they come to me right away, which they didn’t do on the first visit. I’ve been learning their names as I brush them, but when they are out of their pens, wandering around the property with the other donkeys, I can only, for sure, recognize one or two.
It’s a fifty-mile round trip drive to the sanctuary, but it’s so worth it. And when we come home, Cody loves to sniff our pants and shoes. He’s doing pretty well, considering he’ll be thirteen in July. His bloodwork came back all in the good range, but his degenerative disk disease is causing weakness and a bit of paralysis in his back legs. He’s been doing well with regular acupuncture treatments, but if he moves too fast, or jerks in the wrong way, he has a setback.
Two weeks ago he fell hard on his back when he jumped down from the bed (that won’t happen again), and since then, he’s been having a really hard time getting up and walking without falling over. He had an acupuncture treatment last Thursday, but he was no better on Friday. And only slightly better on Saturday. He slept a lot in his back room bed, and wasn’t eager to go for walks. We started talking about end of life, because if a dog can’t enjoy a walk….
And then Sunday, he was walking stronger and steadier, only dropping once or twice, but able to get himself up. He was interested in carrying his ball, and sat in front of the screen door for his naps.
By Monday he was walking like his normal, old dog self. He’s still a little wobbly, but he’s able to turn without falling over, squat without dropping, and we’ve been walking a little further each day. He had another treatment this past Thursday, so we’re hoping for even more stability over the next few days.
Beyond that, life is the same as usual.
Full time RV living has always included isolation and social distancing, so we’re used to not seeing friends, going to gatherings, or having regular out-in-the-world lives.
But I imagine that this sudden stay at home situation is very challenging for most people.
When we first hit the road, I was so thrilled with the newness of everything, that I didn’t think about my old life. But it wasn’t long before I missed seeing friends, going to my weekly yoga class, eating at favorite restaurants. And it was even harder because everyone was still living their full and regular lives.
Now, we’re all experiencing this isolation and separation and loss.
I invite you to cry and feel and move though the sadness until you’re able to focus on gratitude for something in your present moment life.
Then come up with one new way to connect to yourself or someone else, so that you feel less lonely.
I saw this post on Facebook, author unknown. It’s a lovely reminder that we are all in this together, but we are not all having the same experiences.
I hope that you and your loved ones are healthy and comfortable, and that you have everything you need. If you are at home with other people, I hope you are finding ways to appreciate each other, and enjoy each other’s presence and company. Please hug each other more, for those who are alone with no one to hug. And, if you are home alone, may you have pillows to hug, amusements to keep you engaged, and virtual friends and family to connect with.
Be well. Breathe deep. Feel safe.
I’d love to hear from you!
