I don't reach out to others that frequently under normal circumstances, other than here. I have pushed myself to call my dad a bit more often since his movement in the assisted living facility is limited, and guest visits and excursions are not permitted right now.

I guess my sister and I have been communicating as often as in the past. Once or twice per week. I've heard less from my brother. He visits my sister a lot because he lives within walking distance of her. She told me she wishes he'd visit less because of social distancing. Plus, he still works around others since he's an electrician -- a necessary job.

My hubby chats with people much more often than me. He's more of an extrovert than me. Any friend of mine that would expect daily chat from me would be disappointed or angry because that's not my thing. That doesn't mean I don't care. I'm just not into such chat. It's my way. It doesn't bother me not hearing from people frequently, but when I do hear from friends or others, I like it, especially if the correspondence has some meat to it.

I was talking to my husband this morning about my time in Poland 24 years ago. I was there a little over a month. Three weeks in, the Polish director of the language and cultural exchange called me into his office and asked why I was the only teacher who hadn't called home. I remember telling him that I felt no need to, that I knew they'd call my parents if I died. That surprised him. Truth is, my parents didn't expect a call. Not because they didn't love me. They did. And I loved them. But that's just how my family was and still is, for the most part. When in Taiwan, months passed that I didn't call them. I know that may seem strange to some.