I’m not complaining. Working at home is nothing new to me, and I’m enjoying my husband’s company. Listening in on his conference calls, I’m learning new sides to him. In fact, the other day, I said, “You’re less boss and more mentor.” He smiled.

Sure, I miss crossing the bridge to Germany, walking the forested hills and the shore of the Rhine opposite ours; I miss jaunts into Zurich, exploring its narrow, cobbled streets, window shopping, and meeting friends or the kids for coffee, drinks, or dinner; and I miss my writing groups, the causal work-together-weekly group and the monthly critique group—what can replace an absent hug?

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Still, the store shelves are well stocked. We collect fresh milk from a dairy in the neighboring village, and fresh eggs and farm produce are a two-minute walk from our door. Everyone I know is staying employed and healthy (knock on wood). We’re all looking forward to an ease in restrictions and curious to see what hits us once this storm’s eye has passed.

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