We are now in our 4th month of a stay at home, or what’s been now re-dubbed here in New Orleans, a “safer at home” mandate.

In the first month or so of the order, I viewed it as an adventure, of sorts, even as a personal moment of transformation that we were all going through together. I appreciated the quiet. I noticed the cardinals landing in my backyard, as they traveled along their springtime migratory path, even capturing a rare picture of one (they are notoriously skittish). I cooked something interesting for myself every day (more about that in the next few posts). I watched a lot of great shows on Netflix.

And I walked in the evenings, using the time to rediscover my lovely neighborhood – Algiers Point – noticing that we were, ironically, in the midst of a particularly beautiful spring, in what would have been the height of New Orleans’ festival season.

I am lucky – it’s a neighborhood full of 100 year old+ homes and lush beautiful gardens. I shoot pics of colorful plants, which my Facebook community has schooled me in when it came to their names. We have a couple of lovely small parks tucked amidst the tree lined streets. In those cooler days of spring, people sat out on their front porches – more than I seen since I was a child – sharing a drink, waving at passersby. Sometimes musicians in the neighborhood would grace us with a porch concert as we stood in front of our houses.

There’s a lovely view of the French Quarter, and its heart, St. Louis Cathedral from a walking/bike path atop the levee, just two blocks from the house.

And near the entrance to the ferry terminal, there’s a rare statue, in this city, that no one wants to tear down. Nearby, there’s also, sadly, a reminder of the area’s darker, shameful past – a plaque marking the spot where captured Africans were off loaded from ships and held, waiting to be ferried across the river and sold into slavery.

That reminder, in a circle of history, brings us back to this moment – a transformational moment, a shifting paradigm, if you will, for our country. I marvel that, in my 60’s now, I am witnessing now another time of societal upheaval. I find myself saying to friends that our generation’s lives are bookended by this time, as I reminisce about the era of the late 1960’s, comparing the unfinished work of that time to the work taken up by a younger generation today.

I find myself chafing a bit, anxious to get back to my life.

I use the time to transform myself, as best I can. And I wonder how I can best care for myself, and my world.