What a strange time. We’ve all pushed the pause button, and we don’t know when we’ll be allowed to press play.
In some ways, we writers are better prepared than most. I could spend hours a day alone at my desk, researching and scribbling, reading and thinking. Except…
I’m not alone.
There’s usually a child draped around my shoulders, wondering what to do next. And a husband calling from down the hall. And an extra-loud Facebook conversation echoing from my daughter’s room. I am the lone introvert in a family of extroverts.
But, really, I’m grateful to have them around me. As someone who does, in regular life, often spend hours alone, I recognize the value of connection. And even in this new state, I’m usually the one gathering my family for a walk, or a bike along silent streets, or a disc toss in the empty park.
It’s difficult to imagine quite how we’ll return to normal, or what a new sort of normal might be.
I hope my daughter’s gym teacher is amazed when Silence suddenly hammers out a hundred push-ups. I hope Violence’s grandkids one day wonder how he became such a card shark. I hope that a decade from now, we look back at the pandemic and think how close our kids grew during their enforced isolation. And that no matter what happens, I hope we continue to see our home as a refuge from the world.