Covid Time

Our youngest granddaughter was born on February 19.  She came into the world looking quite surprised.  What am I doing here, she seemed to ask. After all, she was a week or so early.  Why is it so bright in here, her eyes in wee slits wondered.  Of course, how could she anticipate that there would even be a new world, never mind what it might look like.  She came on her own terms and in her own time, when grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends could still hold her, when visits were still possible, when everything on the outside was not a threat.  

She is five weeks old now.  Five weeks ago—a forgotten time, an epoch ago, a bygone era that may look very different from a new reality whenever we release the pause button on society. Paul Krugman, the economist and Nobel laureate  who writes for the New York Times,  has referred to our new reality as Covid Time.   What CovidTime looks like here in Canada and in various parts of the world fills our screens 24/7.

From my tiny sphere, it means:

o   a recognition more than ever that all we have is today, the moment, the choice for that moment;

o   an awakening of what we know deep down, and what our ancestors who lived on this land before us, knew: that success and failure, life and death, depend on community, and that in times of crisis, community coming together in solidarity is the linchpin;

o   awareness that my husband and I belong to the high risk group of +65, and that we stand to benefit from the risk that others take every day,  just going to work, a risk we can avoid;

o   deep gratitude and admiration for anyone on the frontlines of this pandemic—medical professionals, elected representatives at all levels of government, civil servants, people in retail and maintenance, truckers, anyone whose job definition means carrying the yoke of this pandemic or who can’t work from home, or can’t work, period;

o   an effort to do what we can to help the cause, even if that’s just to stay home, only take what we need, follow the protocols, hang on to our joy with both hands and try to pass some on, take care of those in need around us;

o   months ahead without visits to our children or cuddles from our grandchildren, all of whom live in neighboring provinces;

o   retooling myself to provide some distance ed opportunities for the students in my care this year, beginning Monday;

o   disbelief that somehow we threaded the needle of reasonable safety in a trip to Australia and New Zealand, from January 14 to February 8.   In unimaginable good fortune, the fires in Australia did not impact us, and, although we spent the last twelve days on a cruise ship, we escaped the coronavirus (or it bypassed us, not sure which).

CovidTime may also mean more time for sharing experiences and stories, an attempt to do my part to record history as it unfolds and to help myself and others manage the effects of that history.  To leave a record for my granddaughter of the first months of her life.

Stay well, everyone.