This won’t last forever

(This post is part of a series of daily letters from me to my future children reporting from the emerging paradigm.)

Dear Kids:

Week 22 of quarantine. It feels like it’s regular life now, which is both weird and fine? I was at mom and Pat’s house tonight for dinner and they had the news on for five minutes. Long before the Corona they knew that I don’t like to watch the news.

Since Corona, they’ve both told me they consciously watch less of it. But, still, they like to watch the weather. And tonight it was on and in that five minutes some newscaster said with somber expression: “The deaths from Coronavirus by December are projected to be 300,000 or more Americans.” I remember it so specifically because it was stated in such a dire tone.

Truly, if this was a movie of this time, it’s that headline and that report that goes into the montage. Anyway, the news gets paid to freak us out.

I had a phone conversation with a friend today who asked me if Democracy was dead. I don’t think one person can undermine democracy but also everything about this time feels like science fiction. I’m so curious how the 2020 election will turn out and how the Corona resolves.

I keep my head planted in this zone where I’m certain about the future, and present and appreciative of what I can be in this moment. And staying put, sheltered in place. And deeply aware of how powerless I am over this disease and pandemic.

The other day I was listening to a successful entrepreneur talk about her experience building her business as a mother of four kids in high school and middle school. She was doing something unusual, living in a town where her kids were going to school and traveling a bunch for her business. She said, “I keep saying this won’t last forever.”

I checked the date on her talk, it was ten years ago. Her kids nowadays are grown, she was right, this didn’t last forever.

And that’s so true.

For good times and for bad times. This won’t last forever. Heartbreak. Illness. Bad attitudes. Honeymoons. Winning streaks. Always remember the power of six months. (And right now, I’m focused on the power of five years.)

xoxo,

Mom

Grandmother loved hydrangeas. My mom grows a few plants she’s gathered over the years because of Grandmother. She cut back a bush and I kept a couple of stems in water in my trailer. I adore having a vase of fresh hydrangeas and they are really lasting! I totally understand why Grandmother loved them. I love finding new ways of intimacy even after she has shuffled off the mortal coil.

This blog is entirely supported by Patreon. Every dollar counts to making this work sustainable and maintaining the archives of this blog. Thanks to my awesome Patronus supporters (as my mom calls them) for co-creating with me!

Tagged