Day 365: One Year of Pandemic Life

I lost count of days somewhere back in November or December, but this day is easy to remember. It's been one year of living, working, and schooling at home. 

We have spent 365 days with almost no in-person social interaction outside our family of four. We have had almost no childcare help (I think the kids have had four sleepovers at their Gammie and Poppie's house over the course of a year, and that's it). We adults have had to stay connected to work and maintain productivity while the children have had to learn things like how to read and long division. With terrible internet and almost no cell service, and essentially no support from our school. 

Keeping this train on the tracks has been no small feat, and it has not been pretty. The perpetually re-growing mountain of dishes. The ever-accumulating mountain of laundry. The messes of toys and detritus left behind by art projects. The sheer amount of meals cooked. So. Many. Meals. I wish I had a tally of how many pancakes and waffles and pupusas I've made this year. It would be an impressive number.

Holidays, birthdays, everydays. William starting kindergarten. Our tenth wedding anniversary. All at home, and a very tiny home at that. A 768 square foot home with no separate rooms. If I'm in the living/dining area and Jeremy is upstairs in our bedroom area, I can still hear him chewing almonds. It's a good thing I love him so much. 

Anniversary.

Thanksgiving.

William's birthday.

'Twas the night before Christmas.

I haven't seen my mother or brothers or nieces in two years, my father in over a year, not to mention all my friends near and far. And we're about to start circling the sun again in this mad arrangement of isolated pods, reaching out our virtual tendrils toward each other like pea vines climbing toward the sun. My heart is aching on this anniversary from reaching for so long and missing my people so much. 

The things we can do safely are about the same as Day One, but the knowledge we have on Day 365 is so much greater. One significant marker of actual, tangible difference in where we were and where we are is that Jeremy and I received our first dose of the Pfizer vaccine on March 13th. We first heard we qualified on the 9th, because Arkansas declared anyone working in agriculture eligible. I put myself on waitlists, then just started calling pharmacies (and got recordings every time), and then I randomly saw on Facebook that there was a drive-through shot clinic happening in Fort Smith, and we jumped into the car and went. By the end of April, Jeremy and I will have full immunity. Our kids, though, are still vulnerable, so we'll have to be as cautious as ever. 

Life doesn't stop, though, even when you're stuck at home. I looked back on Day One of my journal of the pandemic, and Jeremy came home with baby chicks that day. They are now healthy hens who roam the yard and woods and lay plentiful eggs. We didn't have a puppy yet on Day One, and now we have a giant Daisy who is a sweet, frustrating, integral part of our lives. The farm is still following the cycles of the seasons, this year's crop of baby goats already getting big. The children are growing like weeds and changing all the time. Jeremy and I get more gray hairs by the day. Though we are staying still, time marches on. 

We are so lucky in so many ways, and I make it a practice to voice my gratitude for the ways that we are blessed: we are employed, we have food, we like each other, we live in a peaceful place. But it's important to also acknowledge the difficult parts. We've all taken turns having meltdowns. Parenting guilt over not doing this right is an ever-present voice in our heads. Our kids miss their friends. Our kids are probably behind in school. We all miss normal things like going to birthday parties, going to friends' houses, and for me just going to the office. I even miss being able to honor someone's life by going to a funeral. It's hard to not be able to celebrate or grieve in the company of loved ones. 

I don't know what the next year will bring but I'm determined to get my family across the finish line, whatever that looks like. I'm determined that my kids will get vaccinated as soon as a children's vaccine is approved. I'm determined to protect them from the scary, dire symptoms the coronavirus can cause. Blood clots, long-hauler symptoms, multi-system inflammatory syndrome... no, thank you. I know the risks might be small statistically, but isn't a parent's job to protect their kids from even low-chance risks? Lightening - don't go out in a field in a storm! Fire - stop, drop, and roll! Grizzly bear - don't run, play dead! Black bear - don't run, fight back! Coronavirus - stay away from people, wear a mask, wash your hands! 

We are going to maintain our homebound status quo until the risks are as low as we can reasonably expect them to get. We're tired, but we're still plugging along. Taiya and I just started reading A Wrinkle In Time. William is still into dinosaurs and Wild Kratts. Jeremy is still farming and teaching the kids and working very part time and making us all laugh when we need it. I'm still feeding us relatively healthy meals, working full time, trying to help my kids thrive even in these strange times. My latest hobby is making lists of places I want to go and things I want to do when it's safe. Long, hopeful lists. 

So, friends, let me wish you a Happy One Year Anniversary! We are here! We have precious human life! I am so grateful to have made it to this point, and I am optimistic that this next year will bring us all together again.