My husband is 58 years old today. Though if one thought he was 70, it would not surprise anybody. That is how much he has aged in the two months since the lockdown started.
He wants to be out in the sunshine, or out in his car or among his people walking around in freedom and here he is locked up- ahem, locked down. The only thing that money can buy now is food or medicine. There is nothing else to buy now- no extravagances, no cakes, no celebrations, no dinner in a fancy restaurant.
He didn’t want a cake or any other celebration. Family and friends are wishing him on his birthday through phone calls. He waits in anticipation for that one telephone call that will decide his fate- towards freedom or towards more captivity.
His hair has grown so much over the past two months- there is no hair cutter available for rhyme or reason. I have been begging him to let me at his hair but having seen my past efforts in cutting the stray cats fur, he would not let me. Today he had his back toward me, so I took off the spikes on top of his head with his mustache scissors. And then he was looking like Einstein, with a bunch of hair on each side of his head, almost none on top and a lot at the back- so he had to let me at the hair on his side. So in the end, he had three sides of his head shorn off and rather well, too, I might add. He now has hair only at the back and since no one looks there, often, we can leave that for the professional.
We have come to appreciate our hair dressers, our dry cleaning people, our house cleaners and everyone else who was making life comfortable for us. That is not the only way the lockdown has affected us- we cannot travel, we cannot move around, we cannot visit anyone, we cannot even go to work- everyone prefers working from home.
As the day goes on, we are now waiting for a man, who can help with moving and packing our stuff. After 27 years of marriage, we have a birthday in captivity. We will appreciate freedom when we get it because we have been captive. Freedom will be our biggest gift.