The Before Time

Photo: the red stems in the foreground are a bright contrast to the white snow behind, and further back is a stand of mature spruce against a cloud-streaked winter blue sky.

    In a moment of frustration and melancholy, I lamented aloud to my family during a phone call whether we will ever see each other again in person. Don't get me wrong - I am fully aware of the lingering danger of this virus pandemic and dutifully wear my mask wherever I go. We have continued to avoid gatherings large or small, and the last time we were socially in the presence of actual human beings was on New Year's Eve when we gathered with a few (read: three) neighbors for a socially-distanced campfire and snacks out in the snow. It was bracingly cold that day, but the warmth of the fire and the longing for company made it feel practically balmy as I gratefully played host.

    But this people-person's patience is wearing thin. Our video dance card remains full, with almost daily Skype calls with our grandson in Austin, twice-weekly phone calls with our son in Seattle, online game-nights with extended family, Zoom chats with friends near and far, and as many business video calls as a person can handle. My husband and I are fortunate to have each other as we binge-watch streaming TV episodes and first run movies all from the cozy comfort of our living room. We play cribbage and mancala, we listen to music and do craft projects. We plan meals - elaborate culinary creations and comfort-food feasts. Even as we enjoy these activities and diversions, I miss the good ol' days. 

    I long for the days when we can just invite people over, share a meal, have drinks, hug friends, mark holidays or go on vacation with family, go to the movie theater, go to art events, enjoy live music - in short, get back to normal.

    In the Before Time, we took so many things for granted, but as it goes, you never know what you have until it is gone. Now that those times are gone, I fear that they will never be the same again. Our friends are getting their vaccines, so I know some of the fear and trepidation will be fading. As a member of the younger cohort, it will likely be summer before I qualify for the shot. So, they will likely want to protect me. But I will likely resist their protection in exchange for some interaction.

    There is a sense of PTSD - pandemic trauma stress disorder, in the way we've recoiled at continued closures, for some - the refusal to wear masks, and how soul-crushing it feels to be so distanced. In a time when a hug would mean the world it is firmly out of arms reach.  There is a lot of death and dying. Last year, my family alone lost three elders and several family friends. Whether they died of COVID or not, the fact of the matter is that nothing at all was normal. We couldn't have the customary gatherings with potlucks and story-telling. We didn't have the traditional send-offs, with flowers, blessings, and goodbyes. We could only gather feebly around a cellphone camera or a video screen at the other end.

    Some say that life will never return to its former hue, that one virus after another will color our society, and that nature at its best has always been hell-bent on destroying us. On one hand, I can't blame nature - for we are the most obtrusive and rude creatures. But we can also be nurturing, sharing, good stewards of our surroundings. 

    So, I beg Mother Nature: let us be, let us live, let us thrive. If we wear our masks, wash our hands, trust in science, and trace our contacts, can we puhleeeze have our old lives back? I promise I'll be good.