I want to see light at the end of the tunnel and I probably should be able to, but it has been such a long year. The news has been so painful – so many deaths, certainly many that could have been avoided had action been taken sooner. A year ago, who would have believed that over half a million Americans would die of the coronavirus? The number is unfathomable.
The pandemic has introduced so many wrenches in our plans: from a canceled vacation to national parks last May, to planning a Covid-safe bridal shower and wedding for our daughter instead of the celebrations we were hoping to have, to Zoom meetings of my writing groups instead of getting together in person, and a funeral and shiva for my father-in-law with limited attendance. So many accommodations were made, so many disappointments were absorbed. And we were among the lucky ones. No one in our immediate family got sick, though there were scares and there were quarantines, no one died in our immediate family, and no one is suffering long-term symptoms.
We tried to make the best of it. We still had celebrations. We used FaceTime to visit. Gary went to work, as usual, coming home with indentations on his face from where his mask and goggles pressed against his skin. His hands are rougher than sandpaper from relentless washing and sanitizing. The payoff for his efforts was that, despite some exposures, he has remained healthy and so have I. We took hikes with family and friends, weather-permitting, finding lovely spots nearby to explore. We used our swimming pool more than we had in years. The summer and fall were made bearable by those activities. We used our fire pit more than we ever had even in the winter.
The winter has dragged on, though. Mostly one day feels like the next. I keep having to remind myself what day it is. Now it is March again.
There are signs of light. My husband is fully vaccinated. I got my first shot just over a week ago, so in another month I should be fully immunized. Getting the appointment was a travail, but the process of getting the shot was well organized and efficient. I was impressed with the whole operation at the Javits Center.
I do wonder if the speed of vaccinations can outpace the speed of variants of the virus emerging. If it doesn’t then we will be dealing with the limitations longer than anyone wants. But production has ramped up and more vaccination sites have opened, so maybe we will get ahead of the curve.
Spring is only three weeks away now; the days are getting longer and that usually makes me feel more energetic. Somehow, I still feel discouraged. Maybe it is the persistent grayness. The temperature has moderated but it still looks so gloomy. The sky is leaden, and the trees are bare.
Some of the persistent disappointment may be that I expected, with a new administration in Washington, there would be more hopefulness. I have no complaints with the steps Biden has taken – things are accelerating, but Trump’s influence is still so strong. I was hoping the fever would break, that the Republican party would be released from the ‘big lie’ of a stolen election and would be free to either return to its more reasonable conservative roots or to adopt a new constructive path. Sadly, this does not appear to be happening. I’ve said it a million times, and I will again: I accept that people have different political philosophies, that some view the role of government more narrowly, that some prioritize individual rights more than the communal good and that this leads to different policy choices. I cannot accept white supremacy or violence. I cannot accept ‘alternative facts.’ How will we move on from this moment?
I know I need to be patient. That is not one of my strengths. I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other, keep doing what needs to be done, take opportunities to enjoy family and friends, notice the beauty of the full moon emerging from behind clouds against a violet sky… and breathe. Believe in the light even when I can’t feel it.