Our Coronacake.
When it’s sweet and you can eat it, pandemics seem less scary. (That’s Poppet saying “where is that which is mine?”. He says that a lot.)
My little family of four has many changes on the horizon. In addition to our relocation this summer, our oldest child is leaving for college in the fall. Lots to make our heads spin. Since the big things in life are sometimes easier to digest in bites (see cake, above), we’ve had fun chewing on the little things. For example, we’ve accepted how torturous it’s going to be to “show” our current house and we’ve marveled at how weird it’s going to feel to see our pictures on Illinois Driver’s Licenses. Little bites, yes. But we’ll get there. We’re eaters.
In a strange and crazy twist, life is now adding a pandemic to the mix. What promised to be a carnival ride of a spring has come to an abrupt halt. Whiplash. My kids are starting remote learning in their bedrooms as I write this. And now my feet are firmly planted on the ground, simultaneously catching my balance, bracing for what’s next, and preparing to help.
I don’t know what’s gonna happen as we move forward. Things change so fast, maybe no one really does. And while I feel this frantic energy in the peripheral world as numbers grow exponentially and primary industries hustle to supply, prepare, test, care, and develop tools to fight this thing, my world is very quiet. And while I feel a buzz of anxiety on my personal periphery as I worry about all the people I love staying healthy and solvent, my mind is very calm.
I think I needed a pause.
Life was going too fast. And I’ve had too much to do. And much that didn’t matter mattered much. Even still, if you had asked me ten days ago to zoom out and focus on what’s truly important, truly important things would have been on the list. My daughter’s high school graduation and selling our house are big deals. But now something bigger is happening in our world and I’ve had to zoom out even farther for perspective. And what I see is connectedness. Outside of those folks on the Florida beaches Monday who missed the memo, we’re all working towards the best outcome for the greater good. We, right now, with our collective actions are determining the details of this history, but our motivation is that we simply want each other to be okay.
I’m pretty in touch with the fact I don’t have what it takes to be on the medical frontlines. Ask my sister about when I was 12 and I made her drive me to the ER because I was sure I was gonna go into anaphylactic shock after being bitten by (what turned out to be)… ants. As someone who usually skips the User Manual, I don’t have much to offer on the science side either. I recognize my privilege in being able to stay home with my kids while not worrying about how to put food on the table. So, I’m going to sit in enormous gratitude for the folks doing what I can’t and I’m going to help the folks who can’t do what I can. Time to pick up the phone and place orders with the local shops & restaurants (so many are shipping or offering curbside service!) and find the best places to donate for those struggling to get food or to make rent. While I’m physically staying in, my money can go out. And our country needs me to do both.
Also, I’m gonna savor this pause. And bake a cake with my senior. On a Tuesday afternoon. And make my 15 year old practice driving because the streets aren’t quite as frightening this week. And laugh that even though I seem to have all the time in the world right now, it’s still not enough (laundry – I’m looking at you).
Feet braced. Arms open. (And bring on the memes.)
