Day 55 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Tomorrow - the Day of Liberation

Salut les amis, pour la dernière fois dans cette serie de blogs! (Hi friends, for the last time in this series of blogs.) When midnight strikes tonight the lock-down in France will end. I will stop writing for a while after this post. I'm sure after so many weeks, that makes you smile for us. We are going to be freed from this "Confinement" tomorrow. It's supposed to rain, but I think I'll be doing a happy dance anyway!

View from the vineyards looking at Argeles sur mer and St. Cyprien

Day 55 - We both woke up early and listened to the rain patter on the roof. Eventually, I rose

The planter by Chez Elizabeth
a green grocery in Argelès.

and rolled up the shutters. "Je vais me lever dans dix secondes," promised Y, my French partner. I knew that his "I will get up in 10 seconds" meant nothing of the kind and so I assured him that that there was no need to hurry. "C'est dimanche, prends ton temps." (It's Sunday, take your time.) I put on The Commodores singing "Easy like Sunday Morning," and headed downstairs for breakfast. He was only minutes in catching up. We handed our phones back and forth so we could share the posts of all our friends telling us their plans for tomorrow. Nobody was too worried about the weather. All they could think about was how great it would be to leave the paperwork behind. No more one hour limit on how long we can stay out! 

 I think back on my decision to shelter at my partner's house in Argelès sur mer instead of my village of 1,000 people with only a tiny épicerie. I knew I'd end up driving to the grocery store a lot because the little store only carries fresh fruit and veg. What if we needed a pharmacy? The doctor? How many times could we walk around my tiny village before it got to be a drag? We wanted to be together and here, there were more options for bread and basic supplies. 

I know some of my friends worried that this would test our new relationship to breaking point. I laughed and said I could always grab my cat, the guitar, and my suitcase and risk the 375 euro fine to drive to my place if that happened.  We had taken our time last year getting to know each other. In October, we finally decided to share a life full-time. We smiled through the 48 hours of international travel by bus, train, and plane that culminated in 30 days of staying with various in-laws. I was pretty sure I'd chosen the right guy

I love my village but it is small!

with whom to weather the pandemic storm. 

 Tomorrow makes eight weeks since the French government announced that we should stay home excepting one hour a day to deal with basic needs inside a perimeter of a kilometer from the house, I told Y that I intended to write a blog post for each day we had to be under "Lock-down." I felt I needed to do something structured with our time at home. I planned to write about the news from France.  But the moment I began, I realized that wasn't what I wanted to share. Any news outlet could tell you the news. Only I could share the intimacy of a mixed culture new life of two people very much in love faced with a life of confinement while the Covid-19 pandemic raged. And so that is what I did.

  I never expected to be doing this for 55 days! I look back now and see that I have shared almost 400 photos with you during these daily musings. I told you on the first day that I wanted to share the positive and that as the size of our world contracted, we would stay in each other's lives this way. It has been an interesting journey. We have, to quote the fantastic comedian, Carrie Snow, "Gone through the fire, come out with a tan." Because of you, we are still feeling connected and loved. We care about you too.

The "confinement" has been focused on the goal of keeping the health system from being

A Catalan and a French flag.

overloaded. Our part of France has succeeded in that. Today, in the department P.O. there is no one in the ICU with Covid-19. That tells me we have slowed it down to the point where it makes sense to lift the quarantine. The deaths in all of the country yesterday totaled 80 and today the news told us the total had fallen again. 

The north of the country has been harder hit, and so although they are coming out of quarantine, they have been told to be very careful tomorrow and in the days to come.  It is inevitable that some people will become infected even as they try to be careful. The government warns us that a spike in cases is inevitable but that if we can avoid an overwhelming second wave, the health services are ready. We have braced for a slow return to life. The shops will open. We will distance ourselves from others. There will be hand sanitizer and masks. These are not to be feared. They are all signs of love.

I know the things we will miss the most in our far-flung corner of Catalan France are the festivals and closeness that summer usually brings. Our economy has been battered by the lack

I love our agricultural landscape!

of tourism and will be until a solution is found. Our friends with cafes, hotels, boutiques, camp grounds, bars, and restaurants are worried sick that they won't make it through this year. They echo the thoughts of every worker in France. The markets may or may not open. The farmers are feeling the lack of sales and even employees to plant and harvest the crops.

We will keep on having to make do with "Cafe Y and R" for the next month at the very least. He and I know we are among the lucky ones. We have learned how strong our love is these last two months. We've spent hours hanging out together just reading and writing. We've made silly videos and played at being kids together. Yesterday we culminated our antics by re-creating an avant-garde version of Michelangelo's Vitruvian Man. No, it's not for the blog. We were just having fun.

And now it's the last afternoon. He's busy giving the whole house one last vacuuming and I made Soupe Carole earlier so that

We'll always have each other - and espresso!

tomorrow we don't need to think about cooking. (Seems like I was telling you about that soup when it all began. Still a great soup for pennies a bowl.) I'm writing this final blog to you. I love doing this but the other has not made much progress, so it's time I applied myself to my novels and author's website that needs a re-vamp. I'm sure I'll blog again when there is something beautiful to share with you. Thank you for being so supportive! We have loved your comments, emails, Facebook posts and messages. 

This will not be a summer of dancing "La Sardane" - the traditional Catalan dance - hand in hand to celebrate the circle of life. It is a time to keep putting one foot in front of another. This is the

La Sardane in my little village.

year to keep our heads above water, meditate on the good things we do have, and even mourn the lifestyle we have put aside for the sake of everyone we love. However, tomorrow, Y and I will not be grieving. (He'll do that later when he realizes that the beaches are still closed!) No, tomorrow we will feel elation when we step out of the house without the restrictions of the last 55 days. Although, he's not really a guy for dancing, there are always exceptions.

La Sardane in Argelès sur Mer.

I'm pretty sure that we will be dancing with you in our hearts.

And what of "The Day After?" I don't know. I only know that tomorrow is nearly here. It's the next step. We are all hoping that a solution is found for treating people and that an immunity or vaccine arrives. Whatever else we do now - we will remember how precious every day is and how important every person is. There are no "expendable" people in our lives. Keep on staying safe. Keep on sharing your thoughts when you can. The French will be going outside tomorrow and they will be free. I will be smiling behind my mask as I think about the fact that this quarantine has proven that even though they protest and demonstrate about nearly everything when the chips were down, a huge part of the population followed the rules and the numbers fell. It works when we all work together!

 And although there will be no blog, we will be thinking of you! Adieu jusqu’à ce que nous nous revoyions, nos chers, chers amis. (Farewell, until we meet again, our dear, dear friends.)

The sun rises over the Albères foothills. Beyond them lies Spain.