It’s 7:40 and Mac is laughing in his crib, making jokes with Lambie. I need to start his breakfast, get him up. But this time alone feels precious.

We’ve found a rhythm, somewhat. It feels like the changing tide - you know it will come each time, but it takes a little side-stepping, a little adjusting. Our days require no homeschooling, though we are working on the alphabet and toying with potty training. Mostly, we spend them outside: by the river, long walks in search of tractors, and looking for the cool rocks in our driveway.

After 1.5 years of talking about it, I broke down and ordered a sandbox. I’m astonished by the amount of sand required to fill this little square.

I’m surprised by a lot, lately. How overly worried I feel about my sister-in-law, who’s an ER nurse in Atlanta. How worried I feel about my brother, with asthma. How much alone time I was actually getting before this, unaware that errands here-and-there and my daily trip to the gym filled my cup so abundantly.

I miss going to church. I feel sad about Easter without it. I miss hugging and the mental freedom we had before. It’s hard to explain to Mac why he can’t play with the kids on our street and hug the dogs that have become his friends. I miss seeing family and friends and planning trips and the joys of spring and early summer. I miss patios with margaritas and friends. And sports. And dinners out. The little and big things alike.

I can’t think beyond today. I’m choosing to see only the hours in front of me: from now, 7:44 a.m., to Mac’s nap at 12. And then, we will see from nap until his bedtime. There’s no dreaming of weekend plans, or scheduling things for Thursday. It’s just simply, today.

I can’t help but wonder if, to a degree, there’s something healthy happening here: living in the present, for today only. Being grateful for the hours we have, finally understanding we don’t know what tomorrow will hold. We only get today.

I’ve also wondered a lot about people during this quarantine: are you still making your bed? Cleaning your house more or less? Putting on makeup? Are there fewer burglaries, since everyone is at home? Do you say please to Alexa, too? (OK this is one I’ve just wondered for years and thought I’d sneak in.)

My mind is always going, wondering how everyone is doing during this time, which is uniting us together, binding us through a common enemy, while also siloing us off, sending us all home.

It is a time like no other. Chris told me we could get a Peloton for the next quarantine and I couldn’t help but laugh. Let’s hope there’s no next time. But if there is, yes, we are ordering a Peloton.