Living on Corona Time
I was confronted by a 1-year old this week. As my good friends were busy caring for their newborn, their oldest, Penelope and I were bonding over baked lasagna and the newness of hearing her say my name so well. Sitting in a field, having a picnic and blowing bubbles, I felt this overwhelming sensation to believe nothing else mattered but being with her in this moment. But the confrontation came before that moment. It wasn’t anything Penelope said, it was just her presence that did it. It was in her need for me to walk slower, eat slower and unsuccessfully teach her how to blow bubbles that I was reminded, the pace I had been running at didn’t leave room for slow. I was having thoughts of how I could rationally see why there was nothing productive about being with Penelope. I had a list of things that weren’t getting done and nothing about our slow walk in the park was making me feel further along in life.
I am not a parent, but in my experience, there is something about children that makes time stop. Everything slows down and suddenly keeping this little person alive and being close to them in their need becomes the most important thing in the world. They have nothing to prove and no one to impress, they simply just exist to be dependent, to grow and to have fun. I was reminded of this truth as Penelope very slowly ate her lunch and as I attempted to teach her how to blow bubbles, which was not going so well. She would just stare at me and laugh. She had no agenda for the day or even for our time together. She simply followed my lead, trusting my next move and knowing she would be so taken care of.
I think we can all agree this time in quarantine has been anything but normal. It has been hard to trust next moves and trust we will be cared for. We have all had to adjust to new roles, new lifestyles and new mindsets. Some have had to make much bigger adjustments than others. In reference to parents having to learn to become teachers in order to homeschool their children, I heard someone say, “your kids will not remember everything they learned during this strange time in history, but they will remember how they felt.” I think that statement applied to more than just the quarantine. As I sat in this field with Penelope, I knew she wouldn’t remember all the activities we did or what I said to her but she would remember what it felt like to be with me. She would associate me with one thing or another, and I would get to choose what that was. Would she feel rushed to eat her lunch, to move on to the next thing? Would I cause her to feel like our time together wasn’t successful because it lacked productivity and the invention of something new and useful? Or, would she feel peace? Would she feel like this moment mattered and that I was in no rush for her to grow faster than she was? I wanted Penelope to feel time with me meant feeling free and having fun; feeling seen and accepted; feeling empowered and loved.
If it’s true for children, that they won’t remember this lockdown for what they learned and created as much as they will remember how they felt, why wouldn’t that be true for us as adults?
Somewhere along the way, I picked up the idea that I should have a lot to show for myself when I come out of this quarantine. There have been times I have felt the temptation to be reminded of all the things I haven’t accomplished during this lockdown. I have moments of thinking of time as lost and feel tempted to want to run right back into my normal — getting a bit stir crazy inside. Sometimes I can feel the urge to complain about being in so much pain because of the inability to escape from feeling ALL of my feelings. These temptations are knocking at the door, but I know I get to choose the narrative of this story I am writing.
I live with three amazing and ridiculous women, and when I think back on the past few months, I can’t remember exactly how many new activities we tried or every conversation we had with all the extra time on our hands — I only know how I feel. I am on this side of things feeling more connected to those three women than before. I can feel the intentionality that has gone into being with one another and learning more about who they are. When days come where my emotions need attention and my pain needs comfort, instead of resenting the lack of distractions I have, I’ve become so thankful for the extra space to cry indefinitely, process without a time constraint and heal. The lens that we use to view this happening, is our choice. What will we believe about this time and what will we leave this season believing about ourselves?
What if we focused less on what we did or didn’t do during this time, and we spent more energy deciding how we wanted to feel coming out of this and who we wanted to be. I am actually on the edge of my seat, awaiting the immense creativity that will mark this season. Perhaps the most magical movies, the most thought-provoking novels and the most creative solutions will come out of this unprecedented time. But if you happen not to be in that boat, what could you celebrate? Perhaps this was the time you learned to really just exist. Maybe you slowed down and finally took notice of beautiful things that had been right in front of you all along, or maybe your slower pace made you aware of things that needed to exit your life. Whatever your story is about this quarantine, you get to participate in writing it, so might as well make it a good one!
When Penelope woke up from her nap, her mom said her first words were Jay Jay. Walk. I was glad that’s what she remembered. In retrospect, my time with her was incredibly productive. It was advantageous, constructive and worthwhile. The bond I am building with that little one is priceless and the way she provoked something deep in me to surface led me to gratitude.
I celebrated that.
