Day 20
FaceTime with families is frustrating and awkward, heart-wrenching and beautiful.
There’s a weird intimacy to it, peering into the kitchens and living rooms of strangers as they shout and wave into the camera, show off pools and patio gardens, coax reluctant toddlers to come say hi. I hold up the tablet and try to fade into the background while also awkwardly dispensing technical advice. “I think your thumb is on the lens… ok you need to flip the camera… tap the screen then you see that icon, ok perfect.”
Sometimes the conversations are in Italian or Russian or Polish, and this is better because I feel like less of an intruder, unable to listen in on the details of their lives. I’d rather guess at the content by watching the reactions of the person with me, the dancing lines around the corners of their eyes.
Inevitably, it comes time to sign off - “Ciao Nonna, ti amiamo!” - and the resident will wave and smile until the screen goes dark, and then they’ll lie back and close their eyes and then the tears come. And I’ll stay and hold their hand like I imagine their family might if they were here, but then my visor fogs up and I need to change my mask.
Day 21
There’s a weird intimacy to it, peering into the kitchens and living rooms of strangers as they shout and wave into the camera, show off pools and patio gardens, coax reluctant toddlers to come say hi. I hold up the tablet and try to fade into the background while also awkwardly dispensing technical advice. “I think your thumb is on the lens… ok you need to flip the camera… tap the screen then you see that icon, ok perfect.”
Sometimes the conversations are in Italian or Russian or Polish, and this is better because I feel like less of an intruder, unable to listen in on the details of their lives. I’d rather guess at the content by watching the reactions of the person with me, the dancing lines around the corners of their eyes.
Inevitably, it comes time to sign off - “Ciao Nonna, ti amiamo!” - and the resident will wave and smile until the screen goes dark, and then they’ll lie back and close their eyes and then the tears come. And I’ll stay and hold their hand like I imagine their family might if they were here, but then my visor fogs up and I need to change my mask.
Day 21
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