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*This story was first published on March 14, 2021 It has been exactly one year since we went into self-quarantine on March 14, 2020. No one knew how long it would last, or how intense it would be. We just knew we had to lock it down and wait. Throughout our quarantine, we kept track of our day to day—what else was there to do? Here’s our family log of our first 60 days in lockdown, with pictures and the occasional audio interview. Excerpts from Day 60: “Two MONTHS! HAHAHAHAHhahahaha…hah…ha. Well. That went by fast. Because ev-er-y-day-is-the-same. Here's to two more months.” [Narrator: It was a lot longer than two more months.] Day 60 was May 15. Our town started opening back up 11 days before, and the COVID-19 case number were beginning a steep climb that only accelerated in the many months since. (Only just recently, with the vaccine rollout, have numbers begun to settle.) For me, worry set in. And malaise. I got distracted by things that weren’t stories about my family dealing with lockdown. Then George Floyd was murdered, and the reverberations took me over. This time period was so incredibly dark—not only was there no end to the pandemic in sight, it was getting worse. Racial strife skyrocketed, and although there was some overdue reckoning going on, the pushback was astonishing even by racist American standards. Trump, and Trumpism, still seemed invulnerable. Like many people, I felt just totally crushed. It was all just too much. No wind in my chest. No strength in my legs, no sparks in my brain. The long months of schooling at home, the constant togetherness with the kids (which is to say, often quantity without quality), wore us all down. My job crumbled out from under me, collapsing into an impossible quagmire that I couldn’t handle anymore. Although the final results of the presidential election spelled the official end of the Trump era, the process of getting there was long, agonizing, and traumatic, and it showed that the nation is still broken in half. But amidst it all, I found this social media post of mine from back on June 1, 2020, and it serves as a shining little example of what most of us have found, and clung to, in the many long months of 2020 and the first few of 2021: These humans are small points of light in the darkness. Camille posed for me in the new kayak. And this is what Essie wore to go kayaking.  Small points of light in the darkness, indeed. Perhaps here you see a reflection of your own family’s sparkles from that bizarre time.
We are at a Moment, between the fear and dulled senses and worry and exhaustion of the 2020 pandemic and political season on one end, and glimmers of hope in the darkness on the other—a defeat of Trumpism at the ballot box, the continued momentum of a racial reckoning, and the beginning of the end (maybe) of the pandemic. Take a moment to look back at the dead of winter; see how far we’ve come? Soon, I’ll write about looking forward to a cautious spring.
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