‘I’ve learned so much about the world while stuck on my mother’s balcony’ | Opinion

I have never been so in tune with nature.

Sitting “trapped” on my mother’s balcony in Florida from dawn ‘til dusk, I knew when sunrise was at exactly 7:11 a.m., sunset 7:38 p.m. I’ve learned that the sun does not rise and set at the same spot every day; it appears slightly more to the north over the ocean in the early morning and disappears differently as well, hidden by the tall condo along the Intracoastal. I see when the tide goes in and out, when the ocean is smooth as glass, or the waves crash angrily along the shore. I observe wildlife carefully, noticing what time of day seagulls and geese — now making their way back to my homeland of Canada — appear on the shore searching for food, and when lizards or iguanas or chameleons run around, rather than sit motionless under the shade of a car bumper.

I have never been so in touch with my own body.

Am I hungry now, or just eating because I’m bored or anxious? Am I nauseous because I’m ill, or because I just ate two bags of chips in front of the telly? Is that cough wet or dry? How do I tell the difference? And why was I coughing at all? (Oh, right, one of those chips got caught). Am I experiencing shortness of breath, or is my breathing irregularity because of the crazy thoughts running through my head? Is my throat sore, or is it just my neck, having tossed and turned uncomfortably last night? I’ve gained a pound, lost two. My eyes are tired from too much screen time. My fingernails grow at a faster rate than my toenails.

I have never been so in touch with my mother.

Granted, we got to know each other very well before this all went down, as I came to Florida back in December to keep an eye on the snowbird. But now that we are both here past our “best before” date — and spending all day, every day, trying not to step on each other — we have reconnected in a way that neither one of us could have imagined. I can predict exactly what time she’ll get up in the morning. I know what days she’ll stay in her room for “beautification” sessions, even though she is only doing it for herself (her endearing vanity at 88 is an inspiration to us all). I know when her hip is nagging her and when arthritis is flaring up. I know when she is hungry, and what time she goes to the “snack cupboard” for a pick-me-up: pretzels during “Jeopardy,” chocolate-covered almonds during the 11:00 news. I can hear in her voice when she is feeling blessed and happy to be alive. Thankfully, that’s most of the time — Mom is one of the most positive people I know. I can see it in her eyes when sadness and depression kick in, usually during the aforementioned news broadcast.

Side note: Mom — at this moment in history, ironically — is probably having the best time of her life. She is being “forced” to stay put in sunny Florida. She no longer must schlep to the seniors’ center for exercise class. She can now pick up the phone any time of the day or night and actually get hold of loved ones. She has a son — me — who anticipates her every move, keeping her well-fed and companioned. Mom feels guilty that she is having such a good time. Truth is, I, too, feel blessedly guilty for having such quality time with this amazing woman, who constantly acknowledges how much she loves and appreciates me.

I have never been so in touch with my community.

Or rather communities, plural. There is our local community in Hallandale Beach, where individual actions are now scrutinized, judged, applauded and damned all day long. Then there is my community of friends and relatives — in Toronto and around the globe. Those of us who have avoided social media like the plague (probably should stop using that term) are now embracing it as their lifeline to the outside world, and I feel like I know more about who’s doing what, where and when than ever before.

I guess it’s safe to say, at this point, that I have never been so in touch with my own feelings.

Fear, anger, betrayal, happiness and gratitude are a cocktail of emotions that are being shaken and stirred in my brain simultaneously. As cliched as it sounds, I truly believe that the key to survival now (besides social distancing and hand washing, of course) is to ensure that the positive thoughts — and there are many — overwhelm the negative. Thank you, citizens of the world, for stepping up and caring about one another. Thank you, friends and relatives, for being there through thick and thin.

And thank you, Lord, for the beauty You have created, which I can still see while “trapped” on my mother’s balcony.

Ken Gruber is a writer based in Toronto.