Tess Thompson's Blog, page 3

Love in Isolation, Day Four, Ellis

Day Four
Ellis

Dear Bronte,
I love typing your name. Someday, hopefully, I’ll be able to sign it to you. This quarantine will end eventually and I’ll take you to dinner somewhere nice and teach you how to sign your name. The most beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

I laughed so hard at your description of your mother. Your trips to the weed store are absolutely hilarious. Although, I can see how embarrassing it would be for a person like us, shy and introverted. I’ve never partaken myself but many of the guys I work with do so on a regular basis. Like you, I’m a bit on the conservative side when it comes to such things. I figure I have enough trouble getting around completely sober. But don’t worry about whether I’d judge your mother. I think she sounds like a free spirit and lovely. We all have to find our own ways, don’t we? As long as we’re true to ourselves, then life lines up as it should. I like that you’ve followed your own instincts. Isn’t it interesting how we can be so different from our parents?

My mother was patient and gentle. She had these small, white hands that could soothe any injury, inside or out, with just a soft brush of her fingers on my forehead. When she discovered I was deaf, she changed her entire life for me. She was the type who threw herself into whatever came her way and never complained or asked ‘why me?’. She and my father learned sign language. They sent me to fine schools where I could learn with children like me but also encouraged me to participate in the hearing world. I can read lips quite well because of their insistence that I try. Our family mantra was, “We do our best always”.

Dad was funny and charming. The life of the party, my mother always said. He worked as a sales manager in the medical device business and was very successful. A suit and tie kind of man you rarely see in business these days. Some of his fastidiousness rubbed off on me. The guys I work with tease me for how I dress. They’re usually in baggy shorts and ratty sweatshirts. I think they’d probably fit right in with your friends at the weed shop.

I miss Mom and Dad every day. They were forty when they had me and died within a year of each other when I was in my mid-thirties. I’m comforted thinking they’re together in heaven. What a love story they had! They met during vacations to Paris, both recovering from broken hearts. Dad said he saw her sitting on the patio of a cafe and forgot all about the woman who had dumped him. He went over to her and introduced himself. By the end of the night and a bottle of French Chablis, he knew for certain he would marry her. She said she didn’t know that night but after two weeks together in Paris, they flew back to Seattle and got married the next day. They were both twenty-five and for years and years it was just them. The doctors had said she couldn’t have children so I was quite the surprise when she became pregnant at thirty-nine.

Every autumn, I go to Paris and spend time in the places where they fell in love. I stay in an inn around the corner from the cafe where my parents met that first night. Can you believe the cafe is still there? It’s not like here where they tear everything down to build new only to do it again.

The first night, I always eat at my parents’ cafe. For hours, I sip wine and watch the people pass by. If you’ve never been to Paris, it’s hard to describe what it’s like, how magical. People stay up late and sleep late. Even children can be seen at midnight walking around with their parents. I’m an early riser and walk the streets as the city wakes up, taking in the scents of fresh baked bread and croissants. There’s never a time when I feel more alive than those mornings.

If we’re still in quarantine by autumn, I’ll not be able to go this year. I’ve seen photos of Paris on the news. The streets are empty. All the shops are closed. I’m praying for their recovery. And for ours, of course.

I loved hearing about why you chose to be a teacher. Have you heard from any of your students?

Tell me. What’s your favorite color? Meal? Where have you travelled to? Where do you want to go? What are your dreams?

I’ll tell you one of mine. I yearn for a love story like my parents’. I hope for a family someday.

My dreams are simple, like me. Yet, there is beauty in the simplistic, don’t you think? What more is there to life than love?

Must go for now. Duty calls, so to speak. Write soon.

Ellis

Love in Isolation, Day Three, Bronte

Day Three
Bronte

Dear Ellis,

I’m so very sorry to hear about Millie. My heart broke for you as I read your words. I don’t even know what to say, other than your feelings are completely understandable. But maybe a sweet boy or girl is being trained right this minute to be your next companion. Won’t it be wonderful to meet him or her?

I have two fat, spoiled cats. They’re sisters I adopted from a shelter. One is all black and the other is a tuxedo. The tuxedo I named Tux (I know, not terribly unique). Her sister is named Licorice. I love them more than I should, really. Tux acts like a dog. She follows me everywhere and snuggles next to me any chance she gets. In fact, she’s sitting here on my desk right now. She sleeps with her head tucked under her little white mitten paws and I just die over her cuteness every time.

Licorice has shiny black fur and bright green eyes. She loves to find a spot of sun and stretches out like a person at the beach. At least once a day she runs back and forth across the living room as if she’s being chased. If we have a ghost, she’s the only one who can see it. If she or he is a spirit, then I don’t think it’s a very nice one. Who chases a cat just for fun? I mean, other than a dog. Maybe our ghost is a dog? I’m kidding, of course. I don’t believe in ghosts. Not really anyway. Other than at night when I hear a noise or something and I pull the covers over my head. This is why I can’t watch scary shows or read horror books!

Listen to me, going on like a crazy cat lady. I suppose I fit the profile. Lonely school teacher who takes care of her mother and two cats. LOL. I don’t know why such a handsome man would want to correspond with me. I’m glad you are, though. I can’t tell you how fun it is to see your name pop up in my inbox.

My mother is doing well. Thank you for asking. She might like to correspond with your neighbor. If he’s interested, her email is PainterMama@xmail.com. She’s quite the character, so tell him to be ready. People are either amused or charmed by her or think she’s a complete lunatic. I’m not sure how she had such a dull daughter. She doesn’t talk about it much but I have a feeling she was a wild child in her college years. I’m pretty sure she lived on a commune and had a dozen lovers before she met my father. I know my boring ways have disappointed her. She absolutely loves how you asked for my email. When I asked her to paint a sign back to you, she practically did a cartwheel.

I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but my mother’s a bit of a stoner. Long before cancer, she enjoyed a toke or two more often than she’d admit to her rule-following daughter. Now that it’s legal, she has me buying edibles and drops for her tea at one of the local shops. I flush red every time I go in there. Last time, the clerk asked me how I enjoyed the previous purchase? If you’re unfamiliar (I was) there are at least a hundred different types, all with very funny names, like Party Bus. I might have made that one up, but you get my point.

Anyway, the clerk is this young man with droopy-lidded eyes and a man-bun. Very pleasant and all but it’s obvious he enjoys the merchandise on a regular basis, including while at work. And, honestly, could a shower hurt?

I stuttered out that the purchase was actually for my mother. He exchanged an amused look with his coworker, a young woman with hair the color of blue cotton candy and a nose ring, up and down her ears and one in her tongue.

“And do you ever partake with her?” Cotton Candy Hair asked.

“Oh no. I’m a school teacher.” Why that came out of my mouth, I can’t say. I flushed an even deeper shade of red. Or, at least I think so. I couldn’t see myself but my cheeks felt like they were next to the radiator.

Oh, I must sound like such an old maid! Can you imagine the laugh they shared after I left?

I really should have been born in another time.

Anyway, all this to say, my mother is doing well, painting and enjoying her LEGAL marijuana and having a wonderful time teasing me about checking my email first thing every morning.

I became a teacher because it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. The first day of kindergarten I remember thinking this was my happy place. The place I belonged. The salty, greasy smell of school lunch (which I loved after my mother’s insistence on mustard greens and kale at home) and all those splendid books in the library and my teacher who I adored. Her name was Mrs. Preston and I wanted to grow up and be just like her. So, I did. I’ve never regretted it for a moment. And the best part is that during summer break I can read books every day and tend to my flowers. Someday, I hope to have a house with a yard so I can grow flowers in places other than my pots.

Speaking of which, I’m worried that I won’t be able to get flowers this year. I hope they’ll keep at least a few places open to buy them. My friend Julia has an SUV and she and I make a day of it every spring. We go to Flower World up north and fill up the back of her SUV. Who knows what will happen this year?

I should go. Goodness, I’ve written too much. I’m going to hit send before I change my mind about telling you my mother is a stoner. Write soon.

Bronte

Love in Isolation, Day Three, Ellis

Day Three
Ellis

Dear Bronte,

Thank you for replying to my email. After only a few days in captivity I feel somewhat desolate and alone. Your email brightened my otherwise dull day. Ha. I know we’re not really in captivity, like an animal at a zoo, but I’m sure you know what I mean.

Speaking of animals, do you have any? I’m on a waiting list for a service dog. I had Millie for thirteen years but she passed away last year. At first, I couldn’t even think about getting a new dog, even though they’re helpful for people like me. Millie was my best friend. (I’m tearing up just writing this.) She was a cocker spaniel and the best girl in the world. With this crisis, I’m not sure when a new dog will be available. I’m looking forward to the companionship. That’s what I miss the most.

To answer your question, yes, I was born deaf. For the hearing world, it’s probably hard to imagine what that’s like. However, please do not be sad for me. I’ve never known anything else. For me, this is perfectly normal.

I enjoy fiction more than I could ever explain, as I’m not a writer and clever with words. I read mostly thrillers. I’m especially partial to secret agents and spies. I’m fairly certain I’ll never have an adventure like that in real life! It doesn’t matter, though, does it? Readers can live a thousand lives. I can’t remember who said that but I saw it on a meme recently. I think anyway.

Regarding television, I have a wide range of interests. I love cop shows, sitcoms and romantic comedies. I’ll definitely check out the one you mentioned.

I’m sorry you’re sad about your students. This is such a strange thing to have happened. I’m not sure how any of us are supposed to process this new world. I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them. Have you been able to make any progress on your online curriculum? It seems difficult but maybe you’re so clever it will come easily?

Why did you become a teacher? I’ve always thought it was the hardest profession in the world.

I don’t know if I chose computer programming or if it chose me. When one has a natural ability, it becomes obvious that it’s the best route to take, as there’s always work and it pays well. My poor mother worried if I’d ever be able to function in the hearing world. She had no idea how equipped I was for it. Even now, during this crisis, I have work. Mom and Dad were proud of me. They’re both gone now. I have no siblings, which means no nieces or nephews. I’d like to have children someday, although I worry I’m getting too old. How about you? Do you dream of having a family?

How is your mother doing? My elderly neighbor is fine so far. We text several times a day. He told me this morning to stop fussing over him like a mother hen. That made me laugh. I know he doesn’t mean it. Living alone during isolation is hard for anyone. Maybe he and your mother could correspond as we’re doing? They might enjoy each other, as we’re doing. Just a thought.

I suppose that’s enough for now. My work tasks are piling up this morning. It seems work is busier than ever. Maybe we’re all able to work more now that the commute is no longer a part of the day.

Please write when you can.

Ellis

Love in Isolation, Day Two, Bronte

Day Two
Bronte

Dear Ellis,

What a surprise you are. First, the sign in the window. Yes, a little unorthodox but very clever. Then, calling me beautiful? Well, how am I supposed to resist that? I couldn’t log on to my email fast enough.

In all honesty, I’ve noticed you at the bus stop too. In fact, I’ve often wanted to talk to you. However, we share the same affliction. I am also shy. You can’t imagine the number of things I talk myself out of on a daily basis. Perhaps we’re kindred spirits this way?

I pride myself on my powers of observation, but I must confess I didn’t pick up on your lack of hearing. In hindsight, I should have. There was one morning on the bus where a couple was having a ferocious argument, yelling and screaming at each other. You were the only one who didn’t turn to look at them. I now realize why.

You asked why I was crying. First, thank you for your concern. It’s very sweet. I was not crying because a man has broken my heart. One did. A long time ago now. Since then, I’m careful with my heart. I spend more time between the pages of books than in the real world. It’s much safer there. Fictional characters can’t hurt me.

I was crying because this virus has me scared and sad. My mother lives with me and is recovering from chemotherapy. She’s in remission, but still weak. I’m terrified she’ll get sick. In a way, yes, I was crying about my job. I’m a first-grade teacher and the governor has closed the schools. They haven’t said it yet, but I suspect they’ll close schools for the entire year. I’ll miss the children very much. Actually, I already miss them. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them in person, which hurts. No hugs or end of the year party where I give them each a framed picture of the two of us together. (I take them at the Valentine’s Day party.) This may sound silly to you, but the children are more than just my students. I love each of them. Even the ones who drive me crazy some days! At this age, they’re tender and sweet and they LOVE their teacher. I’ve not had a lot of love in my life, so perhaps this heightens my feelings. Whatever the reason, I treasure each of them more than they could ever know.

To answer your question, I haven’t been out to get groceries yet. Because of my mother, I’m reluctant to leave the apartment. I’ll have to order some in the next day or so. I’ve never done that, actually. I’m on a tight budget. I count my pennies carefully so that I’ll have enough to fill my flowerpots.

Speaking of which, I’m glad you enjoy my flowers. That gives me extra incentive this year to make them even more beautiful. This is funny, but I never thought about what they looked like to others. I do them for myself and for my mother. She’s an artist—a watercolorist. Flowers are her favorite subjects.

How are you keeping occupied?

Are you a reader? If so, what are your favorite books? I enjoy many genres but don’t care for horror. I’m much too scared of the dark for that!

Do you watch television? My mother and I love anything on Masterpiece Theatre. We’re currently watching a show called Unforgotten about an English female detective. She solves cold cases. The plots are interesting with twists and turns. But it’s the portraits of the people I find the most interesting. Characters with flaws and secrets, all struggling for redemption.

Have you been deaf since birth? Is it all right to ask you that? I hope so. I’d hate to offend you and break of our correspondence before we got started.

Please write soon and tell me more about yourself. Feel free to ask me anything. I’ll do my best to answer honestly.

Bronte

Love in Isolation

Day Five

Bronte

Dear Ellis,

I’m sorry to learn of the death of your girlfriend. I can only imagine how gut-wrenching it must have been to get that news. There’s not much I can say, really, is there? I always wonder what to say when I see posts on Facebook about the death of loved ones. I always say how sorry I am while realizing just how inadequate those words are for the grieving.

I would love to go on a date with you. Do you think we’ll ever be released from our homes? Right now it feels like this will go on forever. I’m trying to stay positive, but it’s hard. I miss my students and the comfort of routine. I still wake at 5:30 every morning, even without the alarm being set. My body doesn’t know that we’re in isolation.

As far as where I’d like to go on a date…let me see…a walk on Alki beach sounds nice. That is, if it’s not too cold and windy. I’m a fair weather walker, I’m afraid. My favorite eating out type of place is definitely sushi. Whenever I eat out, I like to pick something that I can’t make at home. There’s a sushi place downtown Seattle that has the most wonderful fish. It’s very expensive, though, so I’ve only one a couple of times. I was planning on going there for my birthday dinner next week. My mom sold one of her paintings last month and put the money aside so she could take me to dinner there. I guess that, like so many events, will have to wait.

Thank you for your offer to pick items up at the grocery for us. We have everything we need at the moment. Two women living together don’t require much. Since the cancer, my mother doesn’t eat much. I try and make tempting meals for her but her appetite just isn’t there. I’m going to make a chocolate cake for her today. She loves cake.

The grey weather does get me down, especially now. I hope we’ll have a few nice days soon. Maybe we could take a walk together, making sure to keep six feet apart? But then, how would we communicate? Do you have advice for any online courses to learn sign language? Can you read lips?

You won’t believe it, but my mother and your neighbor have been emailing. Last night, I heard her giggling and looked over to see her reading her email. Mr. Clancy Smith is quite the charmer if the blush on Mom’s cheeks were any indicator. I do hope he’ll stay safe. I don’t even want to know what he wrote that made her blush!

My little students have been sending me email messages (via their mothers). They mostly say how much they miss me and school and their friends. One little boy named Stevie wrote to me this morning. He’s a rascal. One of those boys who cannot sit still. I adore him. He just has so much energy. He’s the type of child who needs five recesses instead of only two. I suspect he’ll grow up to be an amazing athlete.

Here is a copy and paste of what he wrote:

Dear Ms. West,

I didn’t know I liked school until we can’t go anymore. If we ever get to come back, I promise to be a better boy and not wriggle so much. My mom said today that she didn’t know how you do it with twenty kids. She can barely keep up with one. I heard her ask Daddy to get extra wine when he went to the store. I miss you. Love, Stevie

P.S. My mom is typing this because I don’t know how.

I chuckled over the wine part. It’s hard for parents right now. Some of them are working from home and trying to help their children with school. I wish I could give them all a hug.

I have to go now and get that cake in the oven. What’s your favorite cake? Mine is carrot cake. I think it’s the cream cheese frosting that does it for me.

Stay safe. Write soon.

Bronte

P.S. If you’d ever like to message back and forth, let me know. It might be fun.

Love in Isolation

Day Five

Ellis

Dear Bronte,

Thank you for sharing so much of yourself with me. I’m humbled by your vulnerability. I’m not the kind of man who shies away from talking about the real stuff, so to speak. Because of my disability, I’ve spent much of my life isolated from other people. I suppose that’s given me more time alone with my thoughts.

Being sensitive and empathetic are two wonderful qualities. I’m certain that everyone lucky enough to be in your life benefits greatly.

I know exactly what you mean when you say hope is dangerous. Especially in these times. Even before Corona virus, the world seemed depressing and uncertain. People can be so unkind. The planet’s being destroyed because of human greed. Sometimes it seems the liars and cheaters are the ones who come out on top.

However, there is always hope. As bad as things are, there’s always good too. There are many kind people out there making a difference in big and small ways every single day. Sadly, we seem to notice the bad more often than the good.

I have been in love. When I was in my mid-twenties, I met a woman named Alice. She was the receptionist at my first programming job. Alice was outgoing and bubbly, which worked well given my shyness. Crazily enough, she knew sign language because her brother was deaf. She asked me out for a drink one evening and we talked and talked. Over the next few months, we fell in love. She was a wonderful person, funny and smart. We never seemed to run out of things to say to each other.

About eight months later, I bought a ring and planned to propose to her at her favorite restaurant. She was on the way to meet me when she had a massive brain aneurism and died. Her death devastated me. It was as if the sunshine had been taken from the world. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to open myself up to anyone again.

Between then and now, I’ve dated several women for periods of time, but never anyone I’d want to marry. But like you, I’ve played it very safe. However it is that you lose someone, death or betrayal, has lasting repercussions. Perhaps you and I are finally ready to move on? Could it be that we’ve been waiting for the right person to pull us out of the safety zone?

You asked about regrets. I don’t have any, really, other than waiting so long to reach out to you. I was so afraid of rejection that I couldn’t put myself out there. I’m so glad I did, finally.

What do I think about now that the world’s slowed down? I’ve been thinking about how lonely my life has been. Being alone every day without interaction with coworkers has made it abundantly clear that I need a life outside of work. I’m like you, Bronte. I want that house and garden and children. I want someone to grow old with. We’re not meant to be solitary creatures. I have been way too solitary.

When this is over, where should we go on our first date? If it were up to you, what would the perfect date be? I’d enjoy a walk on Alki beach and then dinner out somewhere. I miss restaurants. My favorite meal out is Mexican, but I am also a lover of macaroni and cheese. I’m familiar with the Beecher’s from Costco. There’s one in my freezer right now.

If you’d like to go out, that is? Would you?

This rain has not stopped all day. Does the gray and rain bother you? Some days I don’t mind. The apartment feels cozy and warm. Today, though, I wish it would stop so I could go out for a walk.

Please let me know if you or your mother need anything. I’ll be going out to the store tomorrow. I could leave the bags for you in your lobby.

My favorite color is blue. Any shade, really, will do.

With affection,

Ellis

Love in Isolation

Day Four

Bronte

Dear Ellis,

Sigh. Paris. And your parents’ love story. More sighs. Thank you for sharing part of your life with me. I’ve never been to Paris but I’d love to go someday. I always think, ‘next year, I’ll go’. My first choice would be a trip through Europe. But I live on a tight budget and just when I save some money, there’s an unforeseen expense. Someday, though!

I haven’t traveled much. I’ve done road trips to various places here in the states, including most of the Pacific Northwest. I went to college in Bellingham at Western Washington University. My roommate and I would often go up to Vancouver, BC. I love it there.

My dreams? They’re simple, even though I’m not. My mother describes me as sensitive and empathetic, which is a nice way to say that I’m highly emotional. It’s like I don’t have enough skin and I feel every single thing all the time. Not just my own feelings but those of others. I used to dislike this about myself but as I grow older I’ve come to understand it is a gift. I notice more than the average person and feel things deeply. This quality makes me a good teacher. A good daughter and friend, too? I don’t know.

What do I want?

Isn’t that the most important question of all?

I dream of a house in the suburbs on a quiet street with a cherry tree that blooms bright pink in the spring. Oh, and a porch or patio with rocking chairs where I could sit and watch the garden grow. What a garden it would be with climbing roses, masses of flowers that spill out of pots and hanging baskets. Maybe some blueberry bushes with fat, sweet fruit to put in cereal or make into pies?

I’d like a man to sit next to me on that patio, holding my hand as we grow old together. So yes, if I’m truthful, I dream of that one person who could be my best friend for life. And children. Maybe two, so they don’t have to be an only child as we were.

As I write this, I’m cringing. I don’t allow myself to dream much. Dreaming and hoping are dangerous. On the other end, when dreams turn to sand in your hands, despair replaces hope. It’s been a long time since I let myself imagine a life other than the one I’m currently living. During my childhood and teenage years I had big dreams. Adulthood has a way of killing those, though. Right? Or is it just me?

Your question has evoked so many thoughts! Frankly, things I haven’t pondered for a long time. I’ve been living, of course, but very safely so as not to get hurt. Routines and discipline. Taking care of Mom and my students. Safe, safe, safe.

I know why. I can tell you the exact moment when I changed. I was just out of college and fell in love with a man who later broke my heart. The pain I experienced when he ended our relationship was debilitating. That term ‘broken heart’ came about for a reason. The pain in my chest was as if my heart had truly been broken in two. I promised myself I’d never love any man again. I believed that love was for others. Not for people like me. Not for those without the needed layer of thick skin.

This is all too much for a casual correspondence, isn’t it? I’m sorry. But it’s best you know exactly who I am.

Okay, on a lighter note. My favorite meal? I can’t decide. I love food. Especially comfort food like mashed potatoes and gravy, spaghetti with meatballs, homemade chicken noodle soup. If I had to choose, I guess I’d say macaroni and cheese made with Beecher’s cheese. They sell one already made at Costco that you just have to heat up in the oven. Mom and I can eat off that for a week.

My favorite color is yellow. To me, it’s the happiest, most encouraging color.

And now some questions for you. Have you ever been in love? Has your heart ever broken? What do you think of now that the world has slowed down? Does the break from the relentless pace of life evoked memories or regrets?

I’ll understand if you don’t write back. However, I hope I haven’t scared you off and that you will. Ah, there it is. That dangerous thing called hope.

Bronte

Love in Isolation

Day Four

Dear Bronte,

I love typing your name. Someday, hopefully, I’ll be able to sign it to you. This quarantine will end eventually and I’ll take you to dinner somewhere nice and teach you how to sign your name. The most beautiful name for a beautiful woman.

I laughed so hard at your description of your mother. Your trips to the weed store are absolutely hilarious. Although, I can see how embarrassing it would be for a person like us, shy and introverted. I’ve never partaken myself but many of the guys I work with do so on a regular basis. Like you, I’m a bit on the conservative side when it comes to such things. I figure I have enough trouble getting around completely sober. But don’t worry about whether I’d judge your mother. I think she sounds like a free spirit and lovely. We all have to find our own ways, don’t we? As long as we’re true to ourselves, then life lines up as it should. I like that you’ve followed your own instincts. Isn’t it interesting how we can be so different from our parents?

My mother was patient and gentle. She had these small, white hands that could soothe any injury, inside or out, with just a soft brush of her fingers on my forehead. When she discovered I was deaf, she changed her entire life for me. She was the type who threw herself into whatever came her way and never complained or asked ‘why me?’. She and my father learned sign language. They sent me to fine schools where I could learn with children like me but also encouraged me to participate in the hearing world. I can read lips quite well because of their insistence that I try. Our family mantra was, “We do our best always”.

Dad was funny and charming. The life of the party, my mother always said. He worked as a sales manager in the medical device business and was very successful. A suit and tie kind of man you rarely see in business these days. Some of his fastidiousness rubbed off on me. The guys I work with tease me for how I dress. They’re usually in baggy shorts and ratty sweatshirts. I think they’d probably fit right in with your friends at the weed shop.

I miss Mom and Dad every day. They were forty when they had me and died within a year of each other when I was in my mid-thirties. I’m comforted thinking they’re together in heaven. What a love story they had! They met during vacations to Paris, both recovering from broken hearts. Dad said he saw her sitting on the patio of a cafe and forgot all about the woman who had dumped him. He went over to her and introduced himself. By the end of the night and a bottle of French Chablis, he knew for certain he would marry her. She said she didn’t know that night but after two weeks together in Paris, they flew back to Seattle and got married the next day. They were both twenty-five and for years and years it was just them. The doctors had said she couldn’t have children so I was quite the surprise when she became pregnant at thirty-nine.

Every autumn, I go to Paris and spend time in the places where they fell in love. I stay in an inn around the corner from the cafe where my parents met that first night. Can you believe the cafe is still there? It’s not like here where they tear everything down to build new only to do it again.

The first night, I always eat at my parents cafe. For hours, I sip wine and watch the people pass by. If you’ve never been to Paris, it’s hard to describe what it’s like, how magical. People stay up late and sleep late. Even children can be seen at midnight walking around with their parents. I’m an early riser and walk the streets as the city wakes up, taking in the scents of fresh baked bread and croissants. There’s never a time when I feel more alive than those mornings.

If we’re still in quarantine by autumn, I’ll not be able to go this year. I’ve seen photos of Paris on the news. The streets are empty. All the shops are closed. I’m praying for their recovery. And for ours, of course.

I loved hearing about why you chose to be a teacher. Have you heard from any of your students?

Tell me. What’s your favorite color? Meal? Where have you traveled to? Where do you want to go? What are your dreams?

I’ll tell you one of mine. I yearn for a love story like my parents’. I hope for a family someday.
My dreams are simple, like me. Yet, there is beauty in the simplistic, don’t you think? What more is there to life than love?

Must go for now. Duty calls, so to speak. Write soon.

Ellis

Love in Isolation

Day Three

Dear Ellis,

I’m so very sorry to hear about Millie. My heart broke for you as I read your words. I don’t even know what to say, other than your feelings are completely understandable. But maybe a sweet boy or girl is being trained right this minute to be your next companion. Won’t it be wonderful to meet him or her?

I have two fat, spoiled cats. They’re sisters I adopted from a shelter. One is all black and the other is a tuxedo. The tuxedo I named Tux (I know, not terribly unique). Her sister is named Licorice. I love them more than I should, really. Tux acts like a dog. She follows me everywhere and snuggles next to me any chance she gets. In fact, she’s sitting here on my desk right now. She sleeps with her head tucked under her little white mitten paws and I just die over her cuteness every time.

Licorice has shiny black fur and bright green eyes. She loves to find a spot of sun and stretches out like a person at the beach. At least once a day she runs back and forth across the living room as if she’s being chased. If we have a ghost, she’s the only one who can see it. If she or he is a spirit, then I don’t think it’s a very nice one. Who chases a cat just for fun? I mean, other than a dog. Maybe our ghost is a dog? I’m kidding, of course. I don’t believe in ghosts. Not really anyway. Other than at night when I hear a noise or something and I pull the covers over my head. This is why I can’t watch scary shows or read horror books!

Listen to me, going on like a crazy cat lady. I suppose I fit the profile. Lonely school teacher who takes care of her mother and two cats. LOL. I don’t know why such a handsome man would want to correspond with me. I’m glad you are, though. I can’t tell you how fun it is to see your name pop up in my inbox.

My mother is doing well. Thank you for asking. She might like to correspond with your neighbor. If he’s interested, her email is PainterMama@xmail.com. She’s quite the character, so tell him to be ready. People are either amused or charmed by her or think she’s a complete lunatic. I’m not sure how she had such a dull daughter. She doesn’t talk about it much but I have a feeling she was a wild child in her college years. I’m pretty sure she lived on a commune and had a dozen lovers before she met my father. I know my boring ways have disappointed her. She absolutely loves how you asked for my email. When I asked her to paint a sign back to you, she practically did a cartwheel.

I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this but my mother’s a bit of a stoner. Long before cancer, she enjoyed a toke or two more often than she’d admit to her rule-following daughter. Now that it’s legal, she has me buying edibles and drops for her tea at one of the local shops. I flush red every time I go in there. Last time, the clerk asked me how I enjoyed the previous purchase? If you’re unfamiliar (I was) there are at least a hundred different types, all with very funny names, like Party Bus. I might have made that one up, but you get my point.

Anyway, the clerk is this young man with droopy-lidded eyes and a man-bun. Very pleasant and all but it’s obvious he enjoys the merchandise on a regular basis, including while at work. And, honestly, could a shower hurt?

I stuttered out that the purchase was actually for my mother. He exchanged an amused look with his coworker, a young woman with hair the color of blue cotton candy and a nose ring, up and down her ears and one in her tongue.

“And do you ever partake with her?” Cotton Candy Hair asked.

“Oh no. I’m a school teacher.” Why that came out of my mouth, I can’t say. I flushed an even deeper shade of red. Or, at least I think so. I couldn’t see myself but my cheeks felt like they were next to the radiator.

Oh, I must sound like such an old maid! Can you imagine the laugh they shared after I left?

I really should have been born in another time.

Anyway, all this to say, my mother is doing well, painting and enjoying her LEGAL marijuana and having a wonderful time teasing me about checking my email first thing every morning.

I became a teacher because it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. The first day of kindergarten I remember thinking this was my happy place. The place I belonged. The salty, greasy smell of school lunch (which I loved after my mother’s insistence on mustard greens and kale at home) and all those splendid books in the library and my teacher who I adored. Her name was Mrs. Preston and I wanted to grow up and be just like her. So, I did. I’ve never regretted it for a moment. And the best part is that during summer break I can read books every day and tend to my flowers. Someday, I hope to have a house with a yard so I can grow flowers in places other than my pots.

Speaking of which, I’m worried that I won’t be able to get flowers this year. I hope they’ll keep at least a few places open to buy them. My friend Julia has an SUV and she and I make a day of it every spring. We go to Flower World up north and fill up the back of her SUV. Who knows what will happen this year?

I should go. Goodness, I’ve written too much. I’m going to hit send before I change my mind about telling you my mother is a stoner.

Write soon.

Bronte

Love in Isolation

Day Three

Ellis

Dear Bronte,

Thank you for replying to my email. After only a few days in captivity I feel somewhat desolate and alone. Your email brightened my otherwise dull day. Ha. I know we’re not really in captivity, like an animal at a zoo, but I’m sure you know what I mean.
Speaking of animals, do you have any? I’m on a waiting list for a service dog. I had Millie for thirteen years but she passed away last year. At first, I couldn’t even think about getting a new dog, even though they’re helpful for people like me. Millie was my best friend. (I’m tearing up just writing this.) She was a cocker spaniel and the best girl in the world. With this crisis, I’m not sure when a new dog will be available. I’m looking forward to the companionship. That’s what I miss the most.

To answer your question, yes, I was born deaf. For the hearing world, it’s probably hard to imagine what that’s like. However, please do not be sad for me. I’ve never known anything else. For me, this is perfectly normal.

I enjoy fiction more than I could ever explain, as I’m not a writer and clever with words. I read mostly thrillers. I’m especially partial to secret agents and spies. I’m fairly certain I’ll never have an adventure like that in real life! It doesn’t matter, though, does it? Readers can live a thousand lives. I can’t remember who said that but I saw it on a meme recently. I think anyway.
Regarding television, I have a wide range of interests. I love cop shows, sitcoms and romantic comedies. I’ll definitely check out the one you mentioned.

I’m sorry you’re sad about your students. This is such a strange thing to have happened. I’m not sure how any of us are supposed to process this new world. I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them. Have you been able to make any progress on your online curriculum? It seems difficult but maybe you’re so clever it will come easily?

Why did you become a teacher? I’ve always thought it was the hardest profession in the world.

I don’t know if I chose computer programming or if it chose me. When one has a natural ability, it becomes obvious that it’s the best route to take, as there’s always work and it pays well. My poor mother worried if I’d ever be able to function in the hearing world. She had no idea how equipped I was for it. Even now, during this crisis, I have work. Mom and Dad were proud of me. They’re both gone now. I have no siblings, which means no nieces or nephews. I’d like to have children someday, although I worry I’m getting too old. How about you? Do you dream of having a family?

How is your mother doing? My elderly neighbor is fine so far. We text several times a day. He told me this morning to stop fussing over him like a mother hen. That made me laugh. I know he doesn’t mean it. Living alone during isolation is hard for anyone. Maybe he and your mother could correspond as we’re doing? They might enjoy each other, as we’re doing. Just a thought.
I suppose that’s enough for now. My work tasks are piling up this morning. It seems work is busier than ever. Maybe we’re all able to work more now that the commute is no longer a part of the day.

Please write when you can.

Ellis