With social distancing a very real thing these days, I have been extremely impressed with how my husband, Brent, and I have handled the forced togetherness. For many months now, it has been just the two of us. We were already isolated on our 30 acres where we can’t see any neighbors and no neighbors can see us; but C-19 has taken self-isolation to a whole other level.

Now I'm wondering if maybe I’ve been a bit too smug in thinking we had this covered.

Yesterday, I was outside enjoying the flowers and taking in the beautiful weather when I realized I hadn’t talked to, or seen Brent in almost two hours. This is somewhat unusual because he had open heart surgery a few years ago and is great at letting me know when he is not going to be within earshot; and his phone is always on his person since the triple bypass.

At first, I wasn’t too concerned as he does have a habit of wandering around our property, checking things out, making sure all is well; but he usually lets me know when he’s going to do that. He hadn’t.

I searched inside the house and around the outside close to the house to no avail. My heart rate increased as I continued my search without finding any trace of my husband. I decided I would text him. No response. I emailed him in case he had found a quiet spot to catch up on some favorite writers on social media, knowing he would see the notification. Nothing. I shouted his name. Except for the birds singing and the squirrels chattering; silence. By now, my heart is in my throat.

Finally, I decided to ring the dinner bell mounted on the outside of his shop. After a few loud dings, in my peripheral vision I spotted movement in the section of woods we refer to as the glade. It was Brent, on his hands and knees, crawling out of a teepee constructed by our grandchildren when they were visiting during Christmas. They made great use of downed limbs, large sticks and tree bark to fashion together more than a twelve foot tall teepee. But that is a whole other story.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?” I shout to be heard as we approach each other.

“There’s no cell service in the teepee.” He calls back in response, a huge grin on his face. My hubby, the jokester.

I know he’s kidding, but I play along. “O…kay. You didn’t respond to my email either.”

“As I said, no service in the teepee.”

At this point, since I know he’s safe, it is all I can do to not laugh. “It’s way past time for lunch. Have you eaten?”

“Yep. Picnicked in the teepee. It was great.”

As we meet on the path, I give him a hug and survey his recent hideaway looming in my vision over his shoulder. I’m thinking I must have misconstrued how well we were doing with our isolation. “I guess you don’t miss TV out here since there are no sports right now anyway, right?”

“Right.” He hugs back, then sidesteps to head to the house. I follow.

“And you obviously weren’t missing me.” I’m a pusher.

He shakes his head, giving me a smile over his shoulder as he continues toward the house. “Not right.”

“Well, wait a minute. I wanted to ask why you chose the grandkid’s teepee as the perfect place to spend the past couple of hours.”

He keeps walking toward the house, picking up his pace. I look behind us to check if something is chasing him since he rarely moves this fast except for exercise. Nothing there but squirrels.

“Cause it’s great to be surrounded by nature and listen to the songs of the birds and the breeze in the trees. I just lost track of time.” He answers as he increases his pace even more.

“Okay. But if it’s so great, why go to the house now that I’m here?” Despite his reassurance, maybe we aren’t doing as well as I’d thought. I try to catch his arm, but he’s moving too fast. “Have we been forced to spend too much time together these past few weeks and you’re tired of my company?” Again, me, a pusher.

“Not at all. I love the time we’ve had together and would have been fine with you joining me in the teepee.” We are at the back door to the house now. “I just found out something while I was in the teepee and it must be remedied. Right now.”

I follow him into the house. “Okay. What is it?”

He turns then, giving me a pained expression as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “In this time of crisis there are a few things I have discovered about myself. I can live without texting, email and sports. I can eat outside as well as inside, and the ground lends itself to make a fairly comfortable seat if you cover it with something soft, like an old tattered quilt. I would love it if you would join me when I go back out there.” He opens the door to the bathroom. “But when I heard you ring the bell, it pulled me from my musings and reminded me there is one thing I can’t do in the teepee.”

He enters the bathroom and closes the door, so I almost don’t catch his next words. “I can’t, and won’t, peepee in the teepee.”

I collapse to the floor, laughing hysterically.

Guess that just proves we can take this social distancing thing only so far, and no further. At least I don’t have to worry that our marriage is suffering.

I’m going to make use of the other bathroom inside the house. Then afterwards, if you need me, I will be with my husband in our new rustic vacation getaway in the glade.

Don’t worry, we’ll come to the house on occasion. Hand washing with soap and water for a minimum of twenty seconds is still a priority, after all.