Alongside all of the other obvious differences between working in the D.C. office and what I lovingly refer to as my home office (aka the old work desk and footstool right next to my bedroom window at the foot of my bed), one of the things I love most about working from home is the ability to pause from my work and look up out the window. I did this often throughout the week, taking a few seconds between tasks to look up, admiring the layered blue skies of home. Watching the chickadees twitter about the birch branches outside, I could imagine my cat Shadow upstairs jealously twitching his tail, his primal instincts restricted. My candle burning on the window’s ledge, I felt settled in as I worked remotely on the laptop before me.
Like the past two weeks, this week’s workload was relatively light. Researching, writing, and taking notes on select meetings, it was just what I hoped working from home would be. Yet I was most grateful for the chance to man the phones. Having signed up for two two-hour long slots in the morning and early afternoon, I would occasionally break from my work throughout the day to respond to the needs of my fellow Alaskans. Pausing the podcast I was listening to, I would answer their calls through the computer, taking notes in my notebook just as I would if I was in D.C. Over the course of the week I listened to a number of Alaskans voicing their concerns over COVID-19. Providing them the best information I could, I realized the Senator was right last week: we are the front lines. One constituent I heard from was so relieved to hear a voice pick up her call that she inadvertently gave a shout of relief upon my salutation to her. According to her, she spent the morning calling dozens of legislators across the state and nation, filled with questions concerning the government’s response to the coronavirus pandemic. Worried for her future and that of her husband, her calls had all been met with pre-recorded voicemail responses, all except this one. The ability to talk to someone, for her, offered just as much comfort as the answers I held for her concerning the questions she had. Over the phone, she was able to share some of the stresses that had been holding onto throughout the past few weeks. Concerns over rent. Over her husband’s job. Over paying their heating bill. There were times where she broke down, talking to me about it all. I couldn’t begin to imagine the stress she was under, the emotions building up within her as she and her husband dealt with the impacts of COVID-19 alone. The toll that would take. Yet in hearing to constituent after constituent, I understood her situation was more universal than I’d like to think. In hoping to mitigate the effects of a virus 1/20th the size of a single bacterium, individuals across our state were forced to face perilous situations. Facing an unknown future, many are uncertain with how they’ll be able to make next month’s rent. To pay their employees’ next paycheck. To safely and comfortably continue living in a state as inhospitable as ours can be. In the multipronged local, state, and federal responses to this crisis, I recognize my role as a small one in responding to the needs brought forth by my fellow Alaskans. Yet I’m proud to do what I can for the Senator and his team in responding to the needs of all Alaskans burdened by this crisis. The conversations I’ve had this week have only reinforced that for me. I just pray that we’ll be able to resume normal operations soon. So much as I like the ability to look out my window and admire the scenery of home around me, I’d prefer knowing my fellow Alaskans can make rent. That we all can live our lives without fear for the unseen and the unknown. And that we may be able to move forward together, not six feet apart.
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Photo used under Creative Commons from Mike Juvrud