…was the last normal day of my life. On the evening of January 28, as I was walking home from the train in the dark, I fell and broke my jaw. That was a literal break with my life up until then, a traumatic event which changed me in ways I am still discovering. But that was not enough — at about the same time, the COVID-19 pandemic arrived on our shores, and my region went into fearful lockdown six weeks later. One year of altered existence has passed. When it all began, none of us (except possibly Dr. Fauci!) had any idea how long it was going to last — I recall that I was floored when a colleague told me, early on, that her company wouldn’t return to the office until June 2020 at the earliest. We lived in crisis mode — let’s just get through this hour, this day, this week of this weird extraordinary time — until things get back to normal, surely very soon.
But of course, that didn’t happen — that STILL hasn’t happened. If you escaped the worst, the initial panic and dismay mostly abated. Months drifted by. Crisis became quotidian. I regret living so much of this time in a blind holding pattern, failing to grasp how long pandemic conditions would rule our lives. I don’t know how that realization would have changed things; maybe I’d have made resolutions, like you do at New Year’s. I just feel that I haven’t made make the most of the situation. Sure, I’ve taken long walks and watched birds, rearranged furniture, painted rooms, practiced drawing and ukulele, tried to curate special holiday celebrations with my family — but this is a longer journey than we ever dreamed we were on. Those of us lucky enough to have reached 2021 without too much loss or despair, let’s not miss the still available opportunity to become more mindful. Days like these will never come again — at least, let’s hope not!
PS I just got a message from the county scheduling my first COVID shot, so maybe these weird days really are finally drawing to a close.
Linnetontheleaf 
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