Toasting the End

Listening to the gurgle of most of a bottle of Margarita Mix as I poured it down the drain might have caused extreme remorse for those who love a cocktail before dinner. But for me, it meant a wave of sadness, not because of the waste of a perfectly good adult beverage. It was the realization that my plans for having it on hand for unexpected company were just a pipe dream. There would be no company, expected or not. From the moment I heard that Covid 19 had invaded the world, I made the decision to keep myself and my friends and family as safe as possible. If that meant self-isolation, then that’s the way life would be for the duration.

Although I am totally blind, I don’t mind living alone. As an only child, I spent many hours entertaining myself, alone. I had friends in the neighborhood and at school, but if they were not available to play from time to time, I found plenty of ways to occupy myself in the afternoons until my working parents returned.

As a pre-teen, I spent my share of hours on the phone and in front of The Mickey Mouse Club, alone. As a teen, I studied dance with the fervor of a prima ballerina and would spend hours in our basement studio, practicing for a dream career in dance, alone. In college, I loved living in a dorm, because it was like having sisters. At the same time, I was thankful to have a single room. Being able to shut my door against the noise gave me not only peace, but it also gave me the privacy I needed. The clatter of my braille writer would not bother anybody, and I could use my tape recordings to help me study, alone.

Later, as a wife and mother of a son and daughter, I felt fulfilled with my busy household. Yet, after each child left for independence, and my husband and I dissolved our marriage, I found myself alone again, but not unhappy.

Then enter the pandemic. Self-imposed isolation came naturally. Previously, except for an occasional lunch out, a meeting, doctors’ appointments, or church, my days had been spent alone, with only the company of my guide dog. Life as a single blind woman who lives alone prepared me well for social distancing. Now my days are filled with correspondence via email, listening to talking books, meetings via Zoom, and cleaning out closets. I am blessed to have a friend who takes us to a park once a week to hike through woods, to break the monotony of solitude and just walking around the neighborhood. Even keeping our distance and wearing masks, having a flesh and blood person to be with, rather than a voice on a screen, is a real treat.

I pray that someday soon, I’ll buy another bottle of something fun, and we’ll celebrate by ripping off our masks and enjoying it together.

Mary Hiland

Author of

The Bumpy Road to Assisted Living: a Daughter’s Memoir


Insight Out: One Blind Woman’s View of Her Life

Available at


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