I was looking through a book I had printed with images from 2019… a year we’ll all probably regard as the year “before”. And we’ll all have a collective understanding of what “before” refers to, no matter how we view this pandemic.

I flipped through the pages of the cotton-candy-colored sky of Sayulita, Mexico…. days where we could find deserted beaches to have all to ourselves in far-away lands. Days spent with my best friend, who I haven’t seen since this all went down, since “before”.

And I got to thinking about how exciting that day will be… when we can return to normal and all of these things we’ve been deprived of for all these months; all these friends and connections and adventures and opportunities will be enjoyed again. And how sweet that day will be.

I certainly do have the freedom now to hop on a plane, meet up with my best friend, and have a margarita on the beach in a far-away land (preferably somewhere further than Mexico, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers). It would be different than before, sure, but if I wanted to – today – I could buy a flight to Mexico and meet up with my girl.

Yet I’ve made the choice not to.

I’m somewhere in the middle; where I’m not ready to shack up entirely in my home for until who-knows-when. But also not willing to buy a plane ticket to Mexico. I’ve taken this opportunity to tighten my pod and to change how we do things; taking safety into consideration with a gentle balance of humanity. Because surely we need humanity too. We need each other, in so many ways. In ways that seem to even contradict each other.

Maybe what keeps someone else balanced is different than what keeps me balanced. Maybe we’re not even using the same scale or the same unit of measurement. Maybe we’re just…. different.

And so where’s the happy medium? How do we get our needs met without imposing the consequences of our needs onto others? Where does my freedom get twisted up into yours? Smoke lingers and yet I never took a puff. Trails follow where we go and we don’t all go in a single direction. We are tied together. A ball of yarn with a million knots.

It feels very white of people to be protesting a mask as a hindrance on their freedom. As if wearing something to protect others during a (hopefully) once-in-a-lifetime pandemic is oppressive. Imagine how privileged one has to be to feel a facial covering during a time where thousands are dying daily is imposing too much, on THEM. Imagine how entitled one has to be. I can’t wrap my head around it.

Outside of the hospital I used to work at there’s a large storage container made of metal. It looks like one of the backs of a semi truck. Maybe it is. Only it’s refrigerated and it’s being used as backup for the morgue.

Thus far I’ve had the privilege of saying “I don’t work on the Covid unit”. And yet, now the unit I work on has red tape to delineate us from them; the uniquely infected from the standard infected. They’re seeping through all the cracks and crevices, taking over one taped off portion at a time. I’m now being asked to work more making me realize just how grateful I was / am to primarily work for myself. Feeling the duty to step up for a career that I’ve only ever viewed as my back up plan for the last few years. Have pity on the medical system, it’s drowning. Don’t get sick right now, the hospital is not where you want to be. Safe patient handling – by way of nurse to patient ratio – are going to the wayside. We were waiting until times got desperate and we are here.

And when I say “uniquely” infected, let me be clear: you can’t learn what hasn’t been written. The damn story is writing itself as we live. Of course there are things that make no sense. If anything this pandemic is showing us very clearly where our holes are. And sure, yes, absolutely, THERE ARE SO MANY HOLES.

I took my kids to the skatepark the first day schools here reopened. We figured everyone would be at school and having the freedom that comes with online learning, we headed to the skatepark. And yet, the skatepark was closed due to Covid. I laughed to myself, thinking that at that very moment kids were sitting inside a classroom and yet this outdoor open space is shut down?

That’s a small hole that highlights the fact there’s no playbook… and that the rules are being made as we go on the limited information we have.

Us humans, always thinking we’re in control. Sometimes I think we needed something as big as this pandemic to smack us in the face.

And yet it has and there’s STILL those who don’t see.

Makes me think about my own journey post-divorce and the hard truth that people will only see what they are ready and willing to see. Gulp. That was such a tough pill for me to swallow. I’ve really struggled with wanting others to see things the way I see things. Perhaps the better question is does it matter?

I digress.

I turn back to the book on my lap; the book from 2019, from the year “before”. I return to my original thought; that I can’t wait until this is all over. We didn’t know how good we had it and I think there’s a lesson for all of us; no matter if we agree or disagree, there’s a lesson in gratitude. Whether we went without willingly or didn’t go without as an act of rebellion, I think we are all more aware of what we ought to be grateful for.

Perhaps we can meet there, and see each other.