Aging in the Time of Coronavirus
by Marilyn A. Pellini
A
ging is never a pleasant prospect, but aging in the time of this horrible pandemic is a great trial both physically and mentally. I go to my timeshare in Florida every winter. It was especially great fun when my husband was alive. We rented a spacious cabana with two comfy lounge chairs, complete with an umbrella for perfect shading. We’d be happy as clams for the whole day. You’d find us on the beach every sunny day. There are literally miles of crunchy sand to walk on, explore, gather shells, and watch boats coming and going. And that’s not even to mention
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swimming in that beautiful blue-green water found where the Gulf Stream flows. We both loved to play cards — Gin Rummy, Cribbage, even Crazy Eights and King’s Corners (which we had played with our kids) would amuse us for hours. Each day we would have a game of Scrabble on our little portable board. For years we kept score, and we were very close in total games won, although I’d sometimes let him win if three days had gone by with me in the lead and him beginning to pout a bit. Then the unthinkable happened. My husband died in a bizarre fishing accident. He was only 71 — really not that old for this day
