The swift punch-in-the-gut of COVID-19 has hurled our wellbeing into a state of confusion, dilemma, and reflections. No longer do we wake up early to prepare for work, but change our top and plug the laptop’s charger to conduct remote working in the kitchen. Although it seems impossible, we have found ourselves more online to replace the in-person interaction at work, school, and personal lives. Besides such a leap of change, the news has flowed in with stories about death of loved ones, despair in isolation, and desperation for breakthroughs in news and research. While the gloom hovers in the air of the everyday living, a shift in narrative pervades.
We depend on the weekly therapies that our children get, because we want to see them increase their skills, and not lose them through disuse. Unfortunately, at least in our case, all therapies have gone virtual, and so now our weekly hours of therapy are spent sitting in front of a screen.
Since the Stay-at-Home order was put in place in Illinois back in March, Heather and I have been pondering what ‘next year’ would look like for our family in terms of schooling. Since that time, we have been weighing options and doing research and fretting endlessly about how to give our kids the best possible education while still living under the threat of COVID-19.
This COVID-19, this has changed everything. Nothing will be the same. When I’m suffocating in my own presence in my apartment I quietly gasp for clarity with these little Zoom calls, texts and Netflix viewing parties. I see all these beautiful pixelated faces. All these souls that I rather experience in person - a luxury that I can’t have. I patiently wait for them as their picture flickers on the screen and as the glitches finally sync their words with their mouth. I yearn for the familiar voice of those who know me best. It feels like most times my soul is trying to leap through the glass just to be with the ones I love. I feel foolish.
