In this world of pause, I have found one routine which works for me. It’s my new Sunday routine.

It started at the beginning of the New York State mandated PAUSE that shut down most of life as we know it — including religious services. My dad was missing his daily Mass attendance in general and Sunday Mass in particular, particularly since we were coming up on Palm Sunday.

He’s not a technological guy, my dad. We still marvel at his ability to use the microwave. He’s got cable TV down, but he’s not online. There was no way he’d figure out how to watch a live-streamed Mass on his own. So after consultation with my medical-professional husband and knowing that both households were taking extreme social distancing measures, we determined it was safe for me to go and see my dad on Sundays.

It started with that Palm Sunday, thanks to my alma mater St. Bonaventure (#gobonnies) live streaming Mass from the university chapel. We had bought my mom a Roku Internet TV and I set it up in the dining room, logged into YouTube, and away we went, watching as Fr. Ross, ofm, offered Mass. Afterwards, I made pancakes — a Palm Sunday Moritz Family Tradition — then went home.

We’ve repeated it every Sunday since, although we’ve switched up the pancakes with French toast, baked oatmeal, and scrambled eggs, lest we fall too much into a food rut.

Last week, I brought with me the unread portion of my Sunday New York Times, and my dad and I peacefully read the paper for an hour after brunch.

This week, a beautiful spring day and the warmest yet of 2020, we went for a short walk on the trails at Spring Lake Winery — complete with new face masks and an intense six feet of separation from any other visitors.

Our weekly visits have a certain structure to them. Before Mass, dad goes through any mail he received that involves finances or legal documents, as the paperwork from mom’s death continues to be endless. We watch Mass. We eat brunch. We FaceTime my brother. We read the paper or go for a walk, usually in relative quiet. Not much needs to be said. We simply need to BE together. In fact, it doesn’t really matter what we do. The action flows simply from being together, an outgrowth of what we love and what we share.

It’s simplicity at its highest.

And it’s one of the things I want to take forward with me from this great Quarantine of 2020.

Turns out, I don’t need much. The thing I miss the most? My husband and step-daughter, whom I see on occasion but miss having them living with me. (My husband is a nurse on a COVID-19 unit and is self-isolating himself in another house while stepdaughter is currently with her mother full-time until we can get back to our regular rotation.)

While I can’t wait to take a trip to a new place or drive a few hours to hike or go to a restaurant for a celebration, it turns out I don’t need those things per se.

What I need are the people I do those things with. The people I laugh with. The people I fall apart with. The people I dream with. The people I sit quietly with.

I’m developing an appreciation for simplicity that goes beyond magazine how-to articles. It’s a simplicity that isn’t about the action, but rather about the attitude and approach. It’s about taming the task-master in me that likes to check things off my mental list. Spent time with dad: Check. Called my brother: Check. It’s not about doing those things so much as it is about being with those people, being in that moment.

This has become my definition of simplicity. And my only task is to cultivate more of it.