Driving in Circles

We’ve arrived at week three of sheltering, where driving in circles qualifies as my happy place.

And it can be your happy place too!

I had big plans for this week: I’d wake up on Monday morning and do a deep-dive into Passover with the kids, heavy on art projects and games. This was my first attempt at planning actual “curriculum” for them, and I even sent links to other parents of the fun and substantive activities I had in store.

But I didn’t get much sleep on Sunday night; I read too many news-feeds before bed, and in the morning I was interrupted by a leaky sink and a faltering fence - which both needed immediate-temporary fixes.

This on top of the general clutter - that after three weeks of togetherness - we are all being crushed under.

“Change of plans,” I told the kids and sat them in front of YouTube to watch Mayim Bialik cook Passover food while I attempted triage of the most pressing chores.

By the time I checked on them, Mayim had cycled through all of the Passover videos and the kids were now watching her make potato latkes on a Hanukkah segment.

“Can we make latkes?” they asked.

“We can make tater-tots,” I told them, and pulled a bag out of the freezer.

The kids are fine. Creative and adaptable. They gobbled down their tater-tots with pure delight.

The grown-ups are struggling.

“Let’s take a drive,” I suggested.

“But there’s nowhere to go,” my five-year-old son said.

“And no one to see,” my eight-year-old daughter added.

“Let’s go anyway,” I said.

I drove towards the ocean, with the windows down. And then I circled and drove in the other direction, and circled again. I drove in circles until both kids had fallen asleep in the backseat, the fresh air and motion lulling them the way it had when they were babies.

When my daughter opened her eyes and realized that I was driving aimlessly around our neighborhood, she asked if we could pass by her school.

“Look, the mural’s still there,” she said pointing to the cheerful painting on the side of the empty school building.

“Of course it is!” I replied.

I was trying to reassure her and remain upbeat, but I stopped myself.

I paused and looked back at her.

I acknowledged that this situation was sad.

What is going on right now is really sad.

It wasn’t the day that I had planned, and I’m sure today won’t be either, but driving in circles gave us a space to hold our sadness. And that was a real consolation.

Also, my kids know how to make Mayim Bialik’s Hanukkah latkes, and I bet we can adapt them for Passover.