I received the second dose of the COVID-19 vaccine yesterday.
Everyone knows 2020 was not a typical year. In fact, it was probably the weirdest and most stressful twelve months most of us have ever experienced.
Some of the items I wrote this year were in direct response to what was happening in the world – both in macro and the micro sense – while others could’ve been published any other time.
The biggest change to my writing routine was my output – or lack thereof.
“When autumn winds have stolen summer’s last kiss I will find you again in my dreams; over and over past thousands of Thursdays, until I can meet you under grey skies and flaming trees.”Nicole Lyons
As the calendar pages turn and summer begins to loosen its grip on the world, many people become a bit despondent and lament the end of the long, warm days of July and August as they are replaced by the extended darkness of autumn and winter evenings.
I, however, love the shorter days of fall.
Amid all of the reactions and gifs and videos on social medial today, it was a single tweet of thirteen words from a man and writer that I respect that struck me the hardest.
My second child, my second daughter, turns two today.
My first, the oldest, is an eight-year-old that acts like she’s 14, and since there is such a large gap between number one and number two – for a very, very, very, very good reason – the past two years have been a refresher course in infant and toddler life.
“Always stay a student.”
— Frank Shamrock
The professor opened class with a simple statement.
“I assume everyone has the syllabus and all of the materials.”
Uh, I didn’t. I looked around the room and quickly ascertained that I was the only one. There was no sense in hiding.
I raised my hand to tell him. He wasn’t too annoyed. He simply said, “Open up Canvas and download it now, please.”
I said, “You got it,” but I thought, What the hell is ‘Canvas’?
One question that COVID-19 has brought to the forefront of our societal conversations is, Who are the essential workers?
The first professions that immediately spring to mind are obvious: doctors, nurses, firefighters, police officers. However, the pandemic has proven that there are additional tiers and classes of essential workers, including grocery store employees, delivery drivers, warehouse employees, non-frontline healthcare employees, and teachers.
My wife and I are in these last two categories.
I’m not a journaler by nature.
Yes, I have written down my innermost thoughts on occasion, but generally I jot down short quick notes on almost everything that pops into my brain that I then compile to use later for writing that I will publish, either here or in my newsletter.
Yet I felt that living through a time when a viral droplet infection — a silent, invisible killer — raced across the globe and was documented in real time was as good an occasion as any to keep a daily record of my thoughts.
Is it really going to be 2020?
It’s after 1 a.m. on a Saturday night/Sunday morning and while I’m ostensibly doing work for a class I’m taking, I can’t stop thinking about a phone call I received today. The bottle of wine I just finished is helping with the deep reflection, just FYI.