A Nomad in the Times of Covid-19

I live the life of wanderlust, a traveler who comes and goes as she pleases. Except now — when a biologic virus upends the world and forces everyone inside.

I’m parked, for the duration. I’m at risk, and my lust for travel does not exceed my lust for living. I have 25 feet from front to back in which to while away the hours.

Other travelers are parked with me, though I do not know them. A few are here for the long haul and I recognize them and they me. We share the friendly RVer hello wave. It’s what passes for quarantine socializing. There has been more coming and going of travelers than I would expect in a pandemic, but then I came just a few weeks ago. Each has a story that will have to wait to be known.

Time passes slowly and begs for conversation. We limit our interaction to Zoom. The days are all the same and the calendar becomes irrelevant, except for the days on which I have a writing deadline.

The lack of street traffic, even on the interstate that is nearby, yields a comforting stillness. It’s a stillness I am used to when I am in the woods. I hear birds, lots of birds who are awake during the day. They don’t have to compete with the…