Well, as should not be at all unexpected for the year 2020, hell has finally frozen over in my world. Eva kicked me out of the house for a night in exchange for a “sleepover with daddy.” I could not be more thrilled, for two reasons, the first being that I can count on one hand the total number of nights I’ve spent away from my amazing six-year-old during her lifetime. The second, and more deeply significant, reason is the miraculous wonder of development, as Eva has come into her independence at long last. Granted, the total amount of my time off was about 14 hours. Being my controlling self (yeah, I’m owning it), I had to get everything up through dinner done and leave a massive amount of instructions before leaving around 6:30 p.m. and then had to return by 8:00 a.m. sharp so that my husband could get on a work call. But it was still totally awesome.
Of course, in the time of coronavirus, it was also kind of bizarre. For my special night, I returned to the same hotel we stayed in as a family one night in early March due to mold remediation in our house. The Westin Arlington has the best (“Heavenly”) beds in the world, that has not changed. Neither have the fantastically relaxing rainfall shower heads. But pretty much everything else has. Driving up to the hotel last night, the front entrance was dark and the valet stand abandoned. After self-parking in the garage, I ascended by elevator to emerge, mask on, into an empty, ghostlike lobby. It was downright eerie compared to how it had been the last time I was there. Only one concierge stood at the front desk, and seem surprised when I approached to check in. The small convenience store adjacent to the desk was thankfully still open, so I was able to purchase a mini-bottle of Prosecco and Perrier, feeling blessed that I had been left with just enough to maintain some quality of life in the desert of this year. I politely declined when the concierge asked me if I wanted a bag for my items. I packed them into my overnight bag and remarked, “It’s 2020, right? This is how I roll.”
The pool and decadent hot tub that we enjoyed months ago were now closed, as was the incredibly convenient Starbucks adjacent to the lobby. I wasn’t sure about the possibility of room service, but doubted it’s availability after seeing that all glassware – including wine glasses – had been removed from the my room. I also hadn’t seen staff, or any other people for that matter, anywhere in the building so calling down for a hamburger didn’t seem like an option. If it wasn’t for the unceasing presence of P.F. Chang’s across the street, I probably would have starved. As things were, I proceeded to have a few rather unprecedented hours in the evening to myself. How did I spend them? Drinking Prosecco out of a plastic cup while Zoom chatting with my best friend who lives in Los Angeles. I also enjoyed watching MSNBC coverage of the breaking news coming from The New York Times, revealing Trump’s basically criminal tax returns. It was calm and comforting, more truth coming to light.
Around midnight I drifted off into a beautiful seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. As I closed my eyes, a vivid memory from our March hotel stay in an identical room jumped into my mind. We must have had the news on at some point, probably on mute, not realizing that Eva was as proficient a reader as she had become. I remembered her sitting on the fluffy hotel bed, turning to me and saying in a serious tone, “The coronavirus is everywhere, everyone’s going to get it.” It being early, and not yet mid-March, I quickly replied with what I thought was an honest answer at the time -“Don’t worry, honey – no it won’t. Everything’s going to be fine.” I couldn’t have imagined what the next six months would bring. Of course, at that time, I also couldn’t have imagined Eva allowing, much less wanting, me to spend a night away from her given her intense separation anxiety. Time, indeed, marches on. Understandably, given the rollar-coaster experience of this year, we are all probably somewhat anxious to find out what’s next around the corner. But recognizing more fully how we have little to no control over how things unfold in life can also be oddly reassuring.
Infinity Prose 