Only a few Christmas holidays have passed over the many years without our daughter in it. She's 28 and working in Hawaii - too far to come home, quarantine, spend the holiday, and return to her own house and work life. Her father and I have been so cautious about distancing that we did not feel comfortable with her coming either. So, I made a stocking, filled it, packed boxes with gifts and spent time on the phone, face time and zoom with her daily. That has become usual for us during this time, because she is living solo in an apartment and in a new community. I've been missing her a lot - but not nearly as much as when she left home for travels after last Christmas. In 2019, we spent nearly 6 weeks together - the longest stretch since she was in high school. I got used to her being part of our daily life. I've come to realize that missing my daughter is an ordinary part of life - not just during COVID times. But it seems a bit more pronounced these days because we don't have a "choice" to visit. I better understand as a middle aged adult what my mother felt when I moved away from home many years ago. We grew up in Alaska and I was the only child to "leave to the lower 48." While we visited often, Mom knew we'd never live close again. That must have meant a special kind of loss for her - a quiet form of grieving the passing of our regular time together. Zoom, texting, and cell phones have made the distance much smaller. But I cannot be there for Mom or my daughter to help when they do not feel well. Mom got COVID-19 five weeks ago - and while we were all afraid she may get pneumonia, she fared okay at home. Her main symptoms post-COVID are dizziness, shortness of breath, and tiredness. We are grateful it wasn't worse. And, we hope that there are not invisible effects that will appear later. This photo - to close - is of a patchwork stocking I made in the weeks before Christmas. Our daughter "zoomed" with us as she opened her gifts -- 2020 Christmas was one of a handful I'll never forget. One passed in Northwest China when she was a toddler and we had a paper tree with paper ornaments on the wall. Another where my father was very sick from cancer and yet he rode the snow machine out to get the tree. And another when I did not go home and my father would pass days later. Among those years which stand out were many beautiful holidays spent either in Alaska or our home in the Lower 48 with family and friends. This year's was sad and sweet and beautiful.
January 5, 2021
Well, It's starting to feel a little like a rabbit hole now. In we go, and in we stay. Every night now I'm having a similar dream, in that I'm somewhere in public, and I don't have a mask and no one else does either. I wake up in a panic. The dream takes place in multiple settings--concerts, school, work, socializing with friends. Overall, it says the same thing to me: I'm scared, and this is our new reality. This week my family made a decision to hunker down. We're getting food delivered and avoiding all indoor spaces as much as we can. The numbers are really frightening. I cannot get over the number of people who believe that it's their right to be "Free' to not wear a mask, even it makes others sick and overwhelms the health professionals. I feel like I say the same thing every week, but every morning the news reports the same thing. This week we even had a couple that got on a flight from SFO to Hawaii, knowing they had tested positive. It is enough to make a misanthrope out of anyone! I do feel lucky, though, My spouse has a steady job and we have savings. I have great, cheerful friends and we are keeping each other afloat via the phone. One thing I've had fun with this week. the NYT has a "Calculator" where you can put in your age, county, profession and health status and it will tell you approximately how many people are in front fo you for the vaccine. My 21 year old son and I both have 280 million people ahead of us for the vaccine. This made me laugh. We joked that he and I will be wearing masks for a LONG time. Meanwhile, my spouse, who works in the schools, only has 100 million people in front of him. And my daughter, who is graduating as a nurse, will be first in line as a health care worker. I laugh because honestly, it's all so absurd, how badly we humans have failed this test as a supposedly advanced society. And if I didn't work to constantly find humor, I'd be so depressed I wouldn't get out of bed. I choose not to live that way. We will get out of this. It's just going to take a while.
December 7, 2020