On January 1, 2020, the start of a new year with wonderfully metaphoric digits, I wrote:
“I have never been one for making New Year’s resolutions, yet 2020 seems to be the perfect year to hone my focus. While it may not be possible to achieve perfect 20/20 vision, I resolve to focus on my work, my relationships, my interests, and my creative endeavors. I will strive to listen intently, to slow down, to notice the beauty and inspiration that surrounds us if we just take the time to notice, to be fully present. In 2020, I resolve to focus.”
If only I had known…
With the Christmas decorations packed away, I fought the end-of-holidays, back-to-school “January Blues” by focusing on travel. I was excited to spend spring break with the PHS band in Prague, Vienna, Salzburg, and Venice. I extended my stay in Europe to enjoy a 5-day layover in Paris — five glorious days all to myself in my beloved city! Eric and I also planned a trip back East in June with stops in Connecticut, Newport, Cape Cod, and Boston. We reserved tickets to visit Mystic Seaport and to sail on the 1967 America’s Cup 12 Meter, Intrepid. I made an appointment to view the Hemingway Collection at the Kennedy Library. We looked forward to beautiful sunrises, sunsets, and salty air, to staying in a converted boathouse, to sipping cocktails on the lawn at Castle Hill Inn, and to daily doses of fresh seafood. Little did I know that all of our plans would soon be cancelled and that the 2020 “January Blues” would be redefined as “blissful ignorance”.
Soon it was February, one of my favorite months of the year — twenty-eight cold, snowy days filled with hearts, pastries, flowers, and celebrations. Although this would be the first year since 2017 that I would not be in Paris (having traded my annual birthday trip for “April in Paris”), February 2020 did not disappoint. I enjoyed crêpes for la Chandeleur, good friends chez nous for Valentine’s Day (the last time we would have visitors in our home until Christmas), a mid-winter break in Door County, and a spa day with lunch and dinner dates for my birthday on the last day of the lovely month. Yet I found it hard to focus; I was distracted by the rumblings of a mysterious virus that was rapidly spreading across the globe.
On March 1, despite growing concern for the newly named COVID-19 virus, I hopped a train to Chicago to enjoy the final day of a special Impressionist exhibit at the Art Institute. It was so nice and so easy to get away — even for one day, but I felt nervous, trying not to touch anything and compulsively sanitizing my hands. The following week, our spring break trip was postponed due to level 2 warnings in Europe and I put off my Paris trip until Memorial weekend — surely by then, this would all be over.
And then came Friday the 13th. It was already a scheduled professional development day, but all new learning focused on planning for the possibility of school closing “for a week or so.” By the end of the day, the announcement came that we would be closed for two weeks. By Monday, schools statewide were ordered to stay closed until after Easter. One week later, we weren’t going back at all.
From March 16 through June 6, we did distance learning. We focused on screens. We worked very hard and we learned a lot. We also missed a lot — no spring sports, no field trips, no prom, no graduation. Still we did our best to stay connected. We invited each other into our homes via Google Meet and Zoom. We watched our hair grow longer and grayer (thank goodness, my salon created do-it-yourself color kits). We met each other’s children and pets, aka “co-workers.” I attended countless meetings with Miss P on my lap. To break the monotony, I created a scavenger hunt/creative challenge for my nephews who were stuck at home, both with arms in casts. Eric finished remodeling our deck while on furlough. We Zoomed with family, friends in France, and my eighty-year-old godparents on Easter Sunday. We attended Mass in our living room. We watched Chase graduate from 8th grade on YouTube. He sat in a pew with his parents and brother, separated from his friends, wearing a mask.
And yet, once school was out and the weather was warmer, there was a renewed sense of hope. On the last day of school, I left the house for the first time in months to buy plants and cushions for our deck. Our outdoor space became our new sanctuary. We had coffee in the mornings and wine in the evenings. We watched chickadees, finches, cardinals, and hummingbirds at the feeders. We watched Piper chase (and catch seven) chipmunks. We listened to Jimmy Buffett and cool jazz. We welcomed friends — and kept them 6’ away.
In lieu of “summer vacation,” the meetings continued. We focused on “staying safe to stay open.” We planned for in-person, hybrid, and fully virtual models. We facilitated several days of professional development. We hoped for a mask mandate and whispered about who might have had the virus. We worried about our students’ safety and their mental health. We worried about our own safety and our own mental health.
And then in August, we went back. We went back to schools still under construction, to unfinished spaces, to webcams and Canvas and Google and Zoom, to hybrid classes and virtual Wednesdays. But we were back. We tried to make plans and look beyond Covid, to focus on the “big picture” while we took things day by day. In October, the number of positive cases began to rise rapidly. In November, they went up even more. We no longer whispered about who might have been infected. We contact traced and quarantined and were diligent about safety and sanitation. And even with every precaution, friends and colleagues continued to fall ill.
Yet somehow I made it. I made it to December 18th — the last day of work until January 4, 2021.
2021 — a new year, a new hope.
I’m not naïve enough to think that once the calendar turns over, life will suddenly be back to normal. What does normal really mean anyway? In fact, I’m not sure I want to go back to the way things were before. They say that “hindsight is 20/20” and, along with the fears and frustrations, 2020 has taught so many lessons and provided so many blessings. We enjoyed our home and made plans to make it even better. Thanks to Instacart, we no longer spent time grocery shopping, but instead enjoyed cooking together every night. We didn’t let food spoil in the fridge because we were too tired to make dinner and we didn’t spend money on food and wine in restaurants. I discovered podcasts and read books. We stayed informed about the world while slowing down and focusing on the microcosm within our own little bubble. And most of all, we spent so much more time with Piper. We played and snuggled and learned from each other. Pets really are the best therapy.
Perhaps Maya Angelou said it best, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” I do hope that, in 2021, we will begin to heal. I hope that we will see each other’s smiles again, enjoy each other’s company again, support each other’s businesses again, travel and learn from each other’s cultures again. And while it will take time, it is important to continue to do the best we can.
As I write this, it is about to be midnight in Paris. The chances of making it to midnight in Delafield are slim, so I’ll raise a glass to the new year. Cheers to 2021 and hope! 🥂
