bought myself an
anniversary gift.
Not your typical anniversary, although my husband and I just celebrated our 11th. In honor of that momentous occasion, we purchased a deep freezer for the basement, proving beyond a doubt that we have moved into the major appliances phase of our love.
This week marks a full year of the pandemic. For me, it started on March 15. Beware the Ides of March, indeed.
I'd read about it, this virus thing, talked about it with a friend over lunch at her home the previous Friday, but it didn't really hit home. I felt late to the game: When a dear friend cried at school one morning in fear of the lurking pandemic, I consoled her, but the reality of the situation had yet to sink in. We received word that my boys' school would close the next Tuesday (with an optional day of school on Monday, which we would skip) due to this Virus thing. What. Was. Happening?
I went online, and my anxiety level ratcheted up. An elderly neighbor passed away the previous week, and her memorial service was
scheduled for Sunday afternoon. With new pandemic research fresh in my mind, I felt a wave of fear and nausea wash over me at the idea of going to a funeral home full of strangers. I emailed my regrets and began planning for what I thought would be a few weeks – a month at most – of homeschooling and lockdown life. I ordered groceries and some cleaning supplies from Amazon. I sent my husband out for booze. I felt worried but ready.
Turns out, I was not ready.
We’ve all gone through phases of optimism and gloom in the past 12 months. I’ve had the privilege and burden of spending a lot more time with my family, and maybe the toughest of all, with my deepest fears.
Every year I make a calendar full of family photos each month. Pictures from last February document a dinner out with friends, donuts sampling all over
town, an overnight sleepover with a favorite family at the Field Museum. Living life without a second thought. When I flipped the month over to March, the photos show a sharp shift in content: No friends, no sleepovers, nothing but us at home.
As I turned the calendar, I thought about how I might commemorate this past year. I don't want to forget it, because it's an important time in our lives, but obviously, it's not an experience I ever hope to repeat.
I saw a lovely necklace on Instagram: A thin silver chain held
a delicate purple
macaron pendant next
to a sparkling
monogram. Created by
local artist Diana Peters,
the piece of jewelry
spoke to me. Macarons
are my favorite cookie:
They are tricky to make,
so delicious, and they
never last long. And
purple is my signature
color.
I