A Love Letter To Our Post Pandemic Selves
Now, you’ve climbed your way out of the dark
Once upon a time, you lived through a global pandemic.
Children were not allowed to go to school.
Parents had to work from home.
We all had to stay away from one another.
People wore masks and rubber gloves outside and hoarded things like toilet paper and paper towels and Lysol and Clorox — smells that once reminded us of sterile hospitals now became part of the scent of their home. They worried about how to pay rent and mortgages and fill their fridges. They washed their hands until their knuckles became cracked and raw, and they stayed within the walls of their home, so that life would be a bit safer for the ones who still need to leave — like doctors and nurses and first responders. Like the ones who stock the shelves in our grocery and liquor stores. Like the ones who clean our messes so often that we forgot how much we needed them before this moment.
We watched from afar as doctors and nurses and hospital workers suited up as if they were going to the moon.
We whispered prayers that they’d be ok and shouted from our balconies and front lawns with glee as they returned home.
Grocery store cashiers became the only faces that people would see in the flesh outside of the ones living under their same roof.
Days blended together, and weekends no longer had special meaning.
Meaning came from things like walks on sunny days, and rainbows in windows and in the way communities rallied around small businesses that were hurting.
Meaning came from the words and daily press briefings with Governor Andrew Cuomo — those live streams became our fireside chats, glimmers of hope in a sea of unknown darkness.
Meaning came from things like FaceTime calls, and happy hours on Zoom, and finding new ways to teach and reach one another through the technology that is at our fingertips. Technology that was always there, but somehow never mattered as much as it did then.
Once upon a time, you lived through a global pandemic.
Maybe you were one of the lucky ones, and you didn’t lose anyone that you loved.
Or maybe you did.
Maybe you lost your mother or your grandmother. Perhaps you lost your husband or your wife or your friend. Maybe you were robbed of the right to grieve them the way you usually would — and instead of celebrating their life the way you felt they deserved, you stood on the steps of a church, hanging onto the words of your priest or pastor because that’s all you had.
Maybe you didn’t lose someone, but something — like a wedding without guests. Or a baby or bridal shower that will never come. A vacation. A job. A sense of security in knowing what your next step will be — confusion as to where to place your feet next.
Perhaps we all lost something during the pandemic.
But now, you’re on the other side of the nightmare.
Now, you’ve climbed your way out of the dark.
Now, when you stand in the sunlight, you pay attention to the shadows. You remember that the tiniest spark can light the world aflame — and that you are capable of a glorious blaze.
Now, you don’t rush as much. You don’t wear busy as a badge of honor — for you have learned how to find the blessings in slowness.
Once upon a time, you lived through a global pandemic.
You lost a tremendous amount — it’s the kind of loss that you can never forget.
It’s the kind of loss that becomes part of the very human that you are — but you don’t try and hide the scars. You let them shine. You let them breathe.
Your scars serve as a reminder of things that you’ll never take for granted again.
Like going to a restaurant or a bar and laughing with your friends until your bellies hurt. Like inviting your friends and family to your home for hours on end. Like going to school, and to work, and the library, and to the movies and the park.
Like handshakes with new friends and kisses on the cheek with old ones.
Like hugs from your mom and dad.
Like certainty.
Like carefree choices.
Once upon a time, you lived through a global pandemic.
Now, you’re here to talk about how you lived through it — and learned from it, too.
