The Puzzle Smuggler

March 18. I decided to raid the Barnes & Noble today, to stock up on puzzles, puzzle books, games, and a number of novels, so that every few days I can drop a couple items on my mom’s doorstep, in a desperate effort to keep this 79-year-old woman in her house.

She has a number of friends who are also under various forms of house arrest (by orders from their children), so I figure when my mom is done with each puzzle, she can put it back in the box and leave it outside for me, and I can pick it up, and leave it on another friend’s doorstep a few nights later. Once that friend finishes, I can deliver it to another, and so on. I will be a courier in a late-night puzzle ring, depositing boxes on the driveways of senior citizens. It’s like a clandestine mission of ridiculousness and hope.

I have decided to call myself “The Puzzle Smuggler” and leave little notes on the packages that say, “Much love, The Puzzle Smuggler.” It’s like Santa for the over-80 crowd. Will they try and wait up to see me? Or leave cookies? Oh, actually, if we could get a cookie situation worked into this, I feel like it takes off nationwide.

It was an eerie feeling this afternoon, though, walking alone through the huge outdoor mall in Los Angeles on my way to Barnes & Noble. This place is always swamped with posh shoppers and teenyboppers taking selfies, but today, it was just me strolling the wide empty lane. Still, the typical Frank Sinatra was singing confidently through speakers hidden beneath every bush, and I almost felt like waltzing. And I almost felt like running to hide. I can’t decide if this is the best time for impromptu dancing in public or if the zombie apocalypse is happening.

The Barnes & Noble raid was a huge success. While everyone else is hoarding food and toilet paper, I seem to be the only one hoarding puzzles and books. And worst-case scenario, Mom can just use the Sudoku pages later as TP if it comes to that. I feel like I am really covering all bases.

Plus, I found a DOUBLE-SIDED PUZZLE with images of various succulents, which feels like the holy grail, tying in gardening, and two puzzles in one. This should keep Mom busy for a while. Victory is mine.

So tonight, of course, I was too excited and had to take Mom her first delivery. I told her I was coming, but as is the new “social distancing” rule, I had to remain six feet away, so I placed the first bag (including two puzzles [which, per above, is really three puzzles!], two Sudoku books, one crossword, and a novel) by her door and texted her to come get it.

I waited on the stairs that led down to my childhood home, till she opened the door and stepped out into the pale yellow front light. Then I watched from this sad strange distance, as she opened her first late-night surprise. She suddenly seemed kind of small to me, standing there in her little red pajamas, and it started to make me so sad. Is this it? Is this how we have to live from now on? So far apart? My dad died over a decade ago, but it feels like this is the first time my mom is really alone. Solitary confinement, her daughter can’t even hug her for… how long? Years? But before I can become any more heartbroken about the situation, my mom, having dug through her entire delivery, now holds up the succulent puzzle and proclaims somewhat flatly, “Oh, I’ve done this one already,” and hands it back to me at arm-puzzle-arm distance.

She is just being practical. Who wants to re-do a puzzle? Clearly it has not come to that.

Yep. This woman will survive.

Photo by Hans Peter Gauster