I can easily recall my emotions from the early days of the pandemic: fear of catching the virus, nervousness that every person or surface I encountered was covered in it, paranoia each day when my husband went to work that he would be exposed and bring it home, and uncertainty for the future.
At the same time, I was fascinated by the idea that our planet shared a group experience. Working from home (or not at all) became the new norm. A tank of gas could last for weeks. We washed our hands like surgeons, counted our rolls of toilet paper, compared notes on the best grocery store delivery services, and searched our homes for the spots with the best lighting and backdrops for Zoom meetings. So many of our concerns felt universal.
Now it’s spring 2021, and we’re adjusting to life in a hopefully waning pandemic. I drive around less than before COVID but shop in person more than I did last year. I participate in two book clubs. My children experienced a fairly normal track season and attended their state meet. Our family sold our house and moved recently. These things feel blissfully ordinary, and I’m thankful for it.
Last March our lives changed radically, almost in the blink of an eye. We’re emerging from the pandemic at a slower pace than we entered it. Stores, restaurants, schools, and theaters closed all at once but are now reopening on their own timetables. We are re-emerging individually on our own timetables too.
Please join me today at (in)courage for the rest of the article and let’s talk about giving each other grace as we emerge from the pandemic.
