Beginning to Hope Again
By David R. Lee
“If the angel deigns to come it will be because you have convinced her, not by tears but by your humble resolve to be always beginning; to be a beginner.”
— Rainer Maria Rilke
The world is a different place now. The pre-March 2020 “normal” doesn’t look anything like the normal we’re experiencing today. I talked to my wife, Jackie, about this and the first words out of her mouth were, “We’re all afraid now.” (What a wonderfully wise woman she is.)
Yes, we’re afraid. Scared of catching a life-threatening virus, or giving it to a loved one. Fearful of others, and distrustful—especially if they are not wearing masks—of their motives, intentions, and political views. Skeptical about the truthfulness of our elected leaders’ words. Angry when they tell us to follow safety guidelines—and then turn around and do the very things they told us not to do. Irate at the blatant hypocrisy. And we’re more judgmental and quick to generalize. On my walks I often pass an older gentleman wearing a red hat. He doesn’t wear a mask (nor does he pick up his dog’s droppings along the pathway, but that’s another story). My “judgy” self tells me this man is a horrible human being, which may or may not be the case. In any event, I’m not interested in the truth because I’ve already made up my mind.
The pandemic has hit us personally. Before Thanksgiving, our son-in-law came down with the virus after a golf trip to Las Vegas. He had to stay away from his wife and two children for a total of 17 days. We are very thankful that his case was a mild one and that he seems to be back to his normal self. Things could have been much, much worse. In addition, just a few weeks ago Jackie’s mother was diagnosed with COVID-19, a shattering and frightening bit of news as Mom is 99-years-old and living in a skilled nursing facility. As I write this, she is literally fighting for her life. All of us are devastated—hoping and praying for the best, but not blind to the reality that Mom may die any moment.
COVID-19 has made our world a much smaller place. We’re isolated in our homes, and not a moment goes by that we don’t ache to see our kids, grandbabies, relatives, and friends. Outdoor, masked, socially-distant visits are obviously better than nothing, but having a loved one within reach and not being able to hug him or her sometimes makes it worse than not seeing them at all. Same thing with Zoom chats. This wonderful technological marvel has been a life-saver in many ways, but screen-to-screen visits often make our frustrated hearts even more despondent.
Except for walks, Jackie and I can’t readily go anywhere. Trips to see the children have to be carefully planned, and coordinated with the proper amount of quarantining. Our gym, Fitness Connection, is off-limits, too, so we have to get creative with our home workouts. At least once a week I have to start my car and aimlessly drive around, lest my car battery die again.
The pandemic restrictions mean we watch a lot more television than we did before. Binge-watching has become the norm; sometimes we look up after hours of TV and are astounded that it’s already four o’clock in the afternoon—and we’re still in our pajamas! I read more and write more, which are not bad things. But I’m also depressed, moody, and on edge a lot more, too.
In a nutshell, the virus has forced us indoors and inward. We have time to dwell on our weaknesses, failings, regrets, hurts (real or imagined), and dashed dreams. We now have hours and hours to kill, but the omnipresent gloom often prevents us from doing much of anything. Whatever motivation we have is depleted quickly. The thinking is, “Why bother?” Or “What does it matter?” (For us, as an older retired couple, such depressing thoughts are quite normal. These days we actually have it better than our kids, who must somehow deal with COVID-19, in addition to working their jobs, educating their children, and dealing with the unfairness of it all.)
But hope springs.
Jackie and I are eagerly and excitedly looking forward to the time 2020’s dark days are an unpleasant memory. The New Year is here; with 2021 comes a new president and a fresh approach to conquering the virus. Several vaccines are ready and are already being distributed. That’s a game-changer! No more COVID-19 casualty reports. No more mask-wearing. No more overworked and harried healthcare workers; no more overwhelmed hospitals or barricaded nursing homes. And no more wondering when the invisible enemy is defeated and this nightmare will be over.
We’re also looking forward to:
~Hugging our kids and kissing them; in-person visits to their homes and they to ours; dinners together and the joyous freedom to go to a grandchild’s soccer game or school program.
~Seeing the worry/stress lines disappear from our children’s faces. They no longer have to be heroes in a time of crisis; post-COVID means they can just be regular people again. And when they get overwhelmed, they can drop their kids off at Nana and Papa’s house and get away for a meal, a weekend, or a long-overdue vacation. Most of all, we can’t wait to do a whole series of “holiday redo’s,” and the joy of saying “Yes” after so many months of saying “No.”
~Eating at a restaurant, going to a movie, and shopping in stores again, unafraid to mingle with strangers. Spontaneously driving to Lake Tahoe for lunch at the Char-Pit or a “Wet Woody” dinner at Garwood’s. Going to the gym and doing something other than walk or lift hand- weights. And for me personally, I can’t wait to go to the library, spend hours amidst the books and hushed noise, and sit in the common area reading a novel or perusing The New Yorker.
~Waving to our neighbors, smiling as they pass by, and no longer harboring suspicious thoughts about them. Turning on CNN and listening to stories that do not include the latest COVID-19 death toll or the lack of available ICU beds in hospitals across the country. Forgetting forever what “purple” means to our safety and the health of those we love.
~Seeing the unemployment rate—and the number of people needing unemployment checks—go down and stay down. Watching small businesses return, college and professional stadiums/arenas fill again with fans, and schools—yes, glorious, imperfect, wonderful schools—safely opening-wide their doors to students, teachers, staff, administrative personnel, and parents.
Chuck Noland, Tom Hanks’ character in the movie Cast Away says these words after four years of isolation: "I know what I have to do now. I've got to keep breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide could bring?"
This is precisely what you and I and all of us have to do. Breathe. Believe. Trust. If we do these things, a tsunami of good things will sweep away all the COVID-drenched bad. Better days are coming. We just have to be patient. Perhaps while we wait, we can dream of all the delightful “do overs” that lay ahead!
And the best part? This is just the beginning…
Photo/David R. Lee.
David R. Lee is a retired school counselor and teacher. He and his wife, Jacqueline, have five children, six grandkids, one dog, and two cats. They moved to Reno from Southern California in 2017. His blog, Musing at the Mayhem is a wonderful outlet for his passion to write, write, and write some more.