I am sure, some of you feel something similar during these weird times.

Most of us are grounded at home, most worklife stopped apruptly. One gets the impression of falling out of time. (I am aware, this won’t apply to health care workers or other relevant folks, who rush themselves to help any way they can, and thank you for that.) Uncertainty and for very many even existential worries are predominant. I am glad, I don’t need to worry about such fundamental things.

But.

I never thought, anything like this would ever happen to me. In a way, even now, after week three of full stop, it has not really registered with me. Don’t get me wrong, I am not stupid. Well, not that stupid, anyways. I do get, what is going on.  I watch the news. I check the German, Austrian, American and British news available to me on tv, just to get a fuller picture. I see the fever curve of statistics, the desperate doctors and nurses, those fallen ill suffering in their ICUs, all the horrid pictures in the wake of this virus.

But still, somehow, I feel, I don’t belong in this. I am no part of this. It’s just like standing on a level crossing, with the train thundering past, the noise deafening. Standing still so close to all the havoc, yet 100% sure, once the train passed, everything will be right back to normal. Motion will come back instantly, life will commence. With the noise of the train trailing off, one already forgets, it ever flew past. I stand by on this crazy track, expecting the normal to kick in any day soon. But – told you earlier – I am aware, things might not be back to normal ever again. Seemingly I am not able to level the intellectual information processed with my emotions. My inner being has some catching up to do…

But does it, really? On Sunday, I watched The Voice – Kids on tv. You might know the format, a talent show for folks younger than 15 years. A panel consisting of well known (in this case German) pop stars selecting the best singer of all the talents presenting themselves. To coach the kids through various songs, they have to perform in the course of the show, the panel call in many a host-coach, also famous and frantically greeted by the younsters. Sweetheart and I just looked at each other, as we didn’t know a single one of the so called “Stars” that were so hailed by the teenage generation. Their songs known to everyone in the audience. But us. This was like a punch in the belly.

We frequently  attend pop and rock concerts. Well, maybe three, four times a year, but even so. We think ourselves to be hip.  Hey, we live in Berlin. On the pulse of things.

Turns out, we are somewhere else all together. We attend fringe events for the elderly, apparently. We couldn’t even tell, what is in now. We live so far away from this new reality, that I feel like the proverbial old woman on the windowsill. Looking down to the yard, where the kids play into a future, that has no longer any resemblance with what is familiar to me. And the old folks wish them well…

I turn to my little cat for some comfort. At least Lilly is a bit like me: Baking in the sun on that windowsill, watching her own reality.  At her own sweet time…