As each day of February 2021 passed, I thought about what I was doing roughly a year ago, before it was conceivable to know that our comfortable, boring normalcy was about to be put on the top shelf of the basement closet, way in the back behind the games we haven't played since 1993, not to be seen again for a very long time. Oddities and the unfamiliar would fill the void, and we had no way of knowing for how long. I naively thought we would still be able to spend our scheduled month in Finland summer 2020.
We stepped off a cruise ship in Honolulu on February 1, into a changing world. It was frustrating that little was being done to protect the US from Covid. POTUS stopped some travel from China and then some from Europe, but it wasn't enough, and the virus gained footing anyway.
Italy's experience gave the world a peek at the potential horror to come. I recall a friend asking on social media how bad Covid could get, and I posted an article for her about the tragedy in Italy--too many sick people, not enough doctors, not enough hospital beds, not enough PPE, not enough of anything. Another acquaintance chimed in: "We're not Italy! This will never happen here!" Well, all of the above happened here, and it happened worse than anywhere else on the planet.
On March 7 2020 we attended the funeral of our larger-than-life friend, Walt C. His huge family greeted the attendees and I helped serve the family meal. Covid was gearing up big time, yet we were not yet wearing masks and closures had not begun. I wondered about the wisdom of being in a building full of people. And the next day, March 8, was the last public event we attended. We had our usual Sunday church meetings over a two-hour period, went home, and have not attended another event since that day.
On March 9th I made the 12-hour drive to Teresa's house to help her out for a week. Things were falling apart there, too. TP, wipes cleaners, bleach, and medications disappeared from store shelves. With eight people living in her house I encouraged her to get more of those things in the house, plus some extra groceries in case food began to disappear. It wasn't panic mode, it was preparedness mode. It pays to be smart and it pays to be cautious. Between the two of us we made four or five trips into town to different stores to gather all the things a big family could need. A dairy farmer in their area promised that no one would go without milk or beef, no matter what happened.
On March 11 a pandemic was declared. On the 17th I drove home and not knowing what the situation would be there 12 hours later, I stopped at a Chubbuck grocery store to stock up. Fortunately I had brought my large cooler in the car with me. That same day Craig was flying home from a family visit to CA, and I hoped he wasn't bringing Covid along with him. We both arrived home that night and we both stayed well. And then the closures--schools, church services, meetings, workplaces, all shuttered for the foreseeable future.
Thus began weeks of mask-making, limiting time spent grocery shopping (by going only twice a month), finding "worthy" stuff to watch on Netflix, getting used to my family being around ALL THE TIME, and inventing ways to get exercise. Oh this last one--our gov's strategy was a fairly strict shutdown--even hiking trails and beaches were shut. Good heavens, what to do? I decided that even if the local trails were shut, we would go cycling and walking anyhow. If we were pursued by the law, we know the way through the intricate maze of paths and could evade capture when necessary. Seriously, desperation for an outdoor life during the pandemic drove me to connive like a criminal for the first time in my life.
OK, fast forward to 2021--a ray of hope shone through last Saturday. I ducked into Joann Fabrics to get one little thing for a project and thankfully it wasn't busy. But another gal was shopping right in front of the row of fabric where I needed to look, so I sorta slunk around at a distance, and then she realized what was up and moved over a bit. We got to talking about her project, and then my project, and she needed help with hers so we browsed for coordinating fabric for her couch pillows. I held up her 2 chosen bolts from a distance so she could make a judgement and yes, they worked well together. Victory! Then we got to talking about the vaccine and that went on for a while. She's young but immune-compromised, so I commiserated. Finally we said ta-ta and went our separate ways.
As I walked out of the store, a bolt of lightening hit me. We two just did a very normal pre-pandemic thing: had a friendly conversation with a stranger, helped a stranger, comforted a stranger. No more eye-balling folks like the filthy covid-carrying losers we're afraid they might be, and avoiding contact like the plague. It's been a year... Normal life is creeping back! Coincidentally the sun came out that morning!
Here's a few memes that make me smile:
"Has anyone else moved on from wearing sweatpants and is now just wearing blankets?"
"Airlines sending me "we're in this together" emails...Um, where were you when my suitcase was 51.5 lbs?"
"Me last March: hopefully we'll be back to normal in 6 months? Me now: might book an all-inclusive vacay in 2025 but don't wanna be unrealistic, you know?"
