It Might Not Feel Better at First

Remember a year ago? When the first "shelter in place" orders started to come down? Governor Walz likened it to preparing for a blizzard "which we Minnesotans know how to prepare for." The overwhelming sentiment was that we would prefer for covid, and it would happen, and then blow over, and we would get back to "normal." Remember those heady days when we thought we would be able to have Mother's Day, or graduations, or the state fair, or Thanskgiving? 

That little "breather" we had in the summer when rates were relatively low and we could see people outside? It didn't even feel like much of a break, did it? It took me until the fall to realize what kind of freedom it had been, and how I sort of squandered it.

And now we have what feels like hope as people get vaccinated. And that's a good thing, and makes all of this more bearable. But — sorry to my fellow Hadestown admirers — it's not even like you have to just get Orpheus to walk out of Hades without looking back at Eurydice. It's a lot harder than that.

My aunt and uncle got vaccinated in one of the first weeks that the vaccine was available here, but they still socially distance and mask up (though I have to say that my relief in knowing they are that much safer is palpable). 

Patrick and I know our turn won't come until the summer, and even then, Beatrix won't get vaccinated until fall at the earliest. Were she younger, I would not be so worried, but 13 seems like the age where covid could be really problematic, especially with her heart issues. So that's where our family is, though everyone's situation is remarkably different.

Do you remember when you have had a big break-up, and then the break-up with the person you dated right afterwards seemed to break your heart even more so than the longer-term relationship? Because you were worried you would never be loved again, and things would never be the same (and to some extent, you were right; things never were the same, you had grown up and moved on). That's what I liken this to. 

Things will never be the same.

We're not just going to pick up and go back to our lives the way they were before. Those lives don't exist anymore.

In some ways, maybe things will be better. We've been together with our immediate families. We've adopted pandemic pets. We've discovered new rhythms and patterns to our days, new ways of working. Our homes are more important to us. Our jobs have changed. I hope we bring these things with us. A year is a long time to build new habits.

And for the next several months, its's going to be kind of a roller-coaster. Vaccinations, new strains, spring weather, a roll-back of precautions, double masks, political drama — everything will be up and down for awhile. Which actually may be harder than things are right now, because there will be so much change. But we've learned this last year that we can do hard things.

Which is to say that I finally had to face the fact that it's not going to get better all at once. I'm not going to get a shot, rip off my mask, walk into Lawless for a cocktail, see a show, and have a fantastic late-night dinner somewhere afterwards. I'll probably do all of those things ... sometime ... in dribs and drabs.

So I'm over here, slowly building that new life. Because if I have learned one god damn thing in the last year, it's to be prepared for things to change.