In the span of a week, due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we were all faced with varying degrees of school closure, job loss, child care, and a list of other uncertainties, all the while being forced inside our four-walled structures, only to be left to bump around our crowded minds of worry and concern.
Not having structure in our lives caused our community to slow down and find a new rhythm. But, before this could happen, like so many others, I found myself asking, “How am I going to do this?”
Uncertainty often leaves me psychologically paralyzed, destined for hours of laying on the floor unable to pick a direction, but because I have children and need to be grounded, I rearranged my thinking—along with my furniture—and looked for the positives, leaving worries behind closed doors for now.
One of the things I’ve changed is the way we do lunches. This mundane ritual has become a creative venture, with a few guidelines. It’s “anything goes,” but it must be between two slices of bread. Peanut butter, lettuce, and potato chip sandwiches are one of the unusual creations we have assembled together, as are leftover spaghetti grilled cheese sandwiches. And, yes, they were tasty. This has stimulated our creative juices and given us lasting memories.
I’ve succumbed to an hourly check-in with social media. You heard me—hourly. Some may call this procrastination (although some may call it restraint), and they may be right, but I’ve missed my social interactions at school and face-to-face conversations with my friends. In the past, I was a reluctant social-media user and had never fully engaged with its potential, often undervaluing its existence. Now, I have a door to the “outside world” and have had time to catch up with long-distant friends, converse with classmates about group projects, and have even posted blurbs about our daily sandwich combinations. Social media has been a mental-health lifesaver.
Unlike the not-so-distant past, my children and I now wake up and head for the outdoors. There is a certain type of dance that occurs while out for a walk in this age of social distancing. At first, there’s acknowledgement, then a swerve or sometimes a bend, or a criss-cross, to appropriately give one another as much space as possible. But more often than not, strangers will stop, look up, and say “hello,” and sometimes take a moment to have a conversation. I don’t remember this happening before. I remember walking with a sense of purpose to get to a destination—now it feels like a journey, with time to stop and discover one another.
I still don’t know how I am going to do this, or what will happen next, but what I have discovered is that, like sandwich-making, moments in life can be simple or complicated, mundane or enjoyable. I can decide how to make my meal with what I have, and I’ve learned this much: sandwiches come and go, just like this unusual time in our lives will.