LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL

     They say that every generation has its moment in history.  They say this COVID-19

pandemic is our WWII. They say we will sacrifice much, like our parents and

grandparents before us, and, like them, we will come through this stronger. 

     What they can’t say is how long it will last and who we will be when it is done. How

will we even know when it is done?  WWII had treaties to sign and dancing in the

streets. Returning soldiers kissing strangers in Time Square. The war was over and it

was final and people felt safe to resume their lives.

     There will be no treaty to sign when this pandemic goes down in defeat. Will life

return to normal so gradually that we barely notice? First the yellow tape is torn down

from the swings and playgrounds reopen.  Restaurants reopen with outdoor dining and

reconfigured seating, gradually moving back indoors. Some schools reopen for some

students. And then they close again. Two steps forward and one back. Or is it one step

forward and two back?  For those of us who haven’t lost loved ones, or experienced the

virus ourselves, the constant state of not knowing what to expect next has been the

hardest to bear. Anxiety wears us down. We lose patience and just want this all to be

done.

     Yet as terrible as the pandemic has been, and continues to be, we see a glimmer now

and then of how our lives could possibly benefit from this new reality.  A slower pace to

our frantic lifestyle. Less traffic on the roads and less pollution in the air.  

People who haven’t ridden a bike since childhood discover the joy of family bike

rides.  Siblings who are isolated from their friends discover the joy of playing with each

other, using their imagination to invent games without constant direction from adults

coaching from the sidelines. With no soccer practice to rush off to, families have time

for dinner together. With neighborhood pools and playgrounds closed, my two young

grandsons have created their own adventures splashing in a local creek, racing twigs

down the slow moving stream. Neighbors trade jigsaw puzzles. Road trips replace air

travel as national parks are rediscovered and shared with a new generation. As bleak

as these months have been, there have been moments of a new found appreciation for

slower, less complicated times.  It’s as if Mother Nature has grabbed us by the scruff of

our collective necks, given us a shake and showed us some things that needed to

change.

     But will these changes last? When businesses and schools reopen, and we have the

freedom to resume our pre Covid lives, will we store the bicycles and puzzles and

resume our frantic pace? We say we love the freedom of road trips, but do we really

mean it? Or will air travel lure us back to exotic places far away?

I recently heard an interview with a woman who is a member of her church choir,

speaking about how much she misses singing hymns on Sundays. Her congregation has

taken to humming their familiar hymns but it is just not the same. She looks forward to

the day when they can throw off their masks and joyously belt out those hymns at the

top of their lungs. Yet when that day comes, she said they will continue to hum one

hymn each week in remembrance of these times and to honor those lost to the

pandemic.  As much as I look forward to the day that this pandemic is history, I too

think it will deserve some sort of observance to remind me of the lessons I am currently

living and learning.

     Maybe it will be an annual picnic with my grandsons at the creek where they have

splashed while pools and playgrounds remained closed.  Or making sure that at least

once a week my husband and I find the time to sit on the front porch to watch the

sunset and smile and wave at neighbors passing by.  Hopefully we’ll never again let

weeks, and even months, slip by without hiking or snowshoeing in the mountains that

have kept me sane these past few months.  The pandemic has been scary and isolating

and, hopefully, not ever to be repeated on such a tragic scale. But when we get through

this, and I know we will, I hope we take the lessons we have learned and live better for

having learned them.  Maybe there really is a light at the end of the tunnel and that

light may be a better world.