For the first 6 weeks of Covid, I lived in my basement to keep what I perceived was a necessary safe distance from my family (my husband and 2 kids who were 8 & 10yo). We would only talk from opposite ends of the staircase (with me masked the entire time), but mostly we talked by
Facetime or would sit on opposite sides of the yard outside. I was unsure if I might be transporting the virus on my clothes, my skin, my hair, or in my respiratory droplets. I was quite sure, though, given my family never left our neighborhood, that if they got CoVid, it would surely be because I gave it to them.
I see myself in this portrait wearing a surgical mask and it reminds me that early on, the N95 masks were locked up and rationed - only given to us if we pleaded our case to need it. At one time, I had about 10 very used (read: soiled) N95 masks in my work locker, because I couldn't bring myself to throw one away in case a time came when there were no new ones to distribute.
My colorful surgical hat in this picture - I made it during my free time in the basement - I cut up a dress for the fabric.