Twelve months ago, on New Year’s Eve, I, like everyone else was excited to usher in the New Year. I squeezed in a trip to King of Prussia, had dinner with friends, spent a glorious weekend on Plum Island, and then the world ground to a halt. Schools and workplaces went remote, doctors’ appointments were cancelled, restaurants and retail shops closed. People scoured the disinfectant and toilet paper aisles to no avail.
The world had changed. Irrevocably.
I’m not going to lie the spring was a struggle. I hated working from home, I missed my kids, I missed my friends, I hated to write “cancel” across events noted in my calendar. And yet, as I look back on this time, I was handed a gift.
A gift of time, a gift of ingenuity, a gift of self-care. With this gift, I picked up new hobbies, felting animals, building miniature rooms and creatively cooking. With ingenuity, I connected more regularly with family and friends near and far through zoom with weekly cocktail parties, chat sessions and recipe exchanges. With creativity, I engaged in social distancing coffees, hosted garden parties, and had takeout in deck chairs by the sea.
It became a time for me, where I mourned my usual social engagements, and yet embraced new ones. I began writing more, sending letters, cards and postcards. In return, I got some, while also receiving little mementos from my social distancing events. I began an inspiration board on my kitchen wall, something I encounter every day, which gave me the fortitude to go on. To seize each day and see what I could make of it.
This timely gift has slowed me down. Walking in my neighborhood, I got to see new projects and was excited each day to track their progress. People, despite their masks, became friendlier making sure to say hello on their daily jaunt. I learned to strategically plan my outings, getting what I needed, creatively designing my menu, I baked, I learned to pickle.
This period became garden time, embracing a previously unappreciated outdoor space with family and friends. During our conversations, I listened intently, shared more, and laughed, as I knew our face-to-face time was limited, so I needed to make the most of it.
Family celebrations were quieter and yet we tried to find unique ways to make each one special. Holidays have been different and slower, yet more enjoyable. Some new traditions have been made and will be repeated.
So here comes 2021, and there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Yet, I know that there won’t be an overnight change. There will be no snapping of fingers on December 31st and it all disappears. There will still be remote learning, COVID testing, and creative social distancing. However, this too will pass. But I hope that when it does, I can hold onto the lessons I have learned this year.
Slow down, embrace the small things, cherish every moment. Be mindful, creative and be kind to yourself. This may not have been a gift I thought I needed, but upon reflection it was. 2020 for me was really a year of resets, and one all of us will remember.
**Please note that I have been very fortunate this year in that I have kept my job and have had a place to lay my head. I am so aware that many others were impacted more than me with lost loved ones, and difficult living situations. I thank my stars every day for my fortune.
