A journal entry to my future self:
Hi future me, sorry about your knees. I should have known better.
Just thought I would give you an overview of this time.
We are under a global quarantine. There is a virus called coronavirus or Covid -19 that may or may not have started by someone eating a bat.
This sounds like I’m starting a bad novel. Or some movie where The Rock has to fight the zombies to get the sample to the pretty scientist, played by Rachel McAdams.
It’s a respiratory virus, and the short version is everything is closed, we’re all working from home, and we are instructed to not leave our house unless we absolutely have to.
My only comfort is that you will read this entry in the future and understand my meaning.
Whereas, if I could read this a month ago in some weird letter from the future…
…like a movie where The Rock plays a fireman who finds a journal from the future, and has to fight off the smoke monster to get the journal to the pretty journalist, played by Rachel McAdams…
…if somehow I could get these pages to past me, I would read these revelations in shock. But now the change has come on so gradually, we have had time to put our feet shoulder-width apart and brace for the impact.
Much like The Rock would in a movie where he has to fight off the tidal wave, played by Rachel McAdams.
If I read about this in the past, I would only see the bad, the not leaving the house, the having to figure out virtual school at home. The possibility of having to knit my own toilet paper.
I couldn’t look through the pages of this Future Account (pending movie title) and see the sweetness of this time.
The small, unexpected tenderness I have found.
Somehow, crowded in our homes together, we have found space in our lives. Space to have a meal together, as we gather around one table instead of me at my office, my husband at his office, and my daughter at school.
Space to go for walks outside. Nowhere else to go. Using the time that would usually be reserved for a commute and commuting our feet around the block once or twice.
Space to be in nature. Nothing like taking a break from the constant stress of the news to see an irresponsible butterfly blissfully unaware of what social distancing means.
Space to create. If you make sidewalk chalk, your ship has come in, my friend. Space to be silly, together. We have the YouTube videos to prove it. Space to watch shows, together.
In general, space for together.
And don’t get me wrong, during this time many a mom has hid in the bathroom to eat a Reese’s cup. Sometimes there is a little too much together and not enough space.
I know that I am privileged to look at this situation in this way. There are many that were dealt a much harder hand during this time.
I am not trying to write off the true sense of grief and stress by glazing it in rose-colored glasses. Nor am I attempting to define what this time “is” or “means.” We don’t know that yet, and when we do, look to smarter people than me for the answers.
I am just saying that I have found unexpected bright spots, a handful of truly unique and sweet memories.
This is all weird and new, but sometimes we can be good at weird and new. And if not, we’ll get the hang of it, and hopefully handle it with a little grace and humor.
Just like The Rock would in a movie where he plays a dashing zoo keeper who is the guardian of a young girl, whose family was kidnapped by a misguided sentient gorilla, played by Rachel McAdams.
*I would gladly pay money to see any of these films.
Taffy the Great 