One month ago, I was in here writing about imperfect friendships.
Then the world entered a time warp called COVID-19, and ten years later, here I am again. What a surreal month it’s been, and from all accounts, things are going to get less like reality before they settle down into…well, whatever our new normal is, anyway.
Last month, I was gloating about having had four weekends of contra dance in a row. I didn’t know then that our Leap Day dance would be our last for the foreseeable future, or that I would soon be really glad I decided to attend that dance weekend in February again.
(For one thing, I bought a twirly skirt that weekend and wore it to one dance before everything ended. It’s the only contra dance skirt I can stand to wear right now. It cheers me up because it’s teal with purple patterns and swishes beautifully when I walk, but it’s not loaded with memories like my other skirts.)
Four weeks ago, the dance organizing committee I’m on was debating whether it would be smart to cancel our March 14 dance. We could see what was coming, but hoped we could squeeze in one last event. But I’m glad we didn’t know we were saying goodbye on February 29…it would have been too sad.
Three and a half weeks ago, all the schools here in Ontario closed, and we knew we had no choice but to cancel the entire rest of the dance season. It broke my heart, but given the stories of contagion we’ve been hearing since, I’m really glad we did.
Three weeks ago, my co-workers and I all started working from home, first for three weeks, now for the foreseeable future.
Two weeks ago, all non-essential businesses in Ontario were ordered to close, although many of them already had.
Last week, the cemetery where I love to walk closed its gates, the list of “non-essential” businesses grew longer, and school closures were extended for at least another month. We now know that this will not be over quickly. China, Italy, and Spain have turned the corner and are slowly starting to recover, but they’re the only three so far.
It’s tough, friends. Some days I can sort of pretend things are normal (I’m an introvert and a homebody, and I’m quite happy to work from home instead of in an open office setting). Other days the grief of the world washes over me and I really, really can’t.
What’s getting me through? My husband. Those imperfect friends I talked about last time–everyone’s checking in on each other and having text chats and video chats, getting each other through the days and weeks. Livestreaming copious amounts of contra dance music from out-of-work musicians. Comfort reading (currently: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone). Spending money to support local businesses via delivery or gift certificates. Sharing hopeful and helpful stuff on social media. Pooling errands with local friends. Currently working on gathering fabric for someone who sews (not me!) to turn into face masks. Reading about all the ways people are coming together to help each other.
It’s still so hard to bear. But…I think it’s supposed to be. These are not ordinary times, and we shouldn’t be acting or feeling as if they are. It’s okay to feel the weight and momentousness in our bodies, to feel adrift and unmoored in our minds. One day, this will be in the history books.
One day, this will be over and the next chapter of history will begin.