One Year On

One year ago today, my husband Reid and I were set to go on vacation. We were going to drive through Arizona, California, Nevada, and Utah, making a loop to see family and friends. We had plans to go to Disneyland while in California, and possibly hit Solvang on our way to Nevada. I hadn’t seen some of my family in a couple years. Same with my friend in Arizona, and I hadn’t seen my sister Glenna in Utah for over ten years. There had been some—I wouldn’t say bad blood—but some issues between her and my husband and me, but things had gotten better once she stopped drinking (again!).

Then the coronavirus hit—hard. We all knew it was coming, but I don’t think any of us knew to what extent it would affect us all. Three days before we were to leave on our trip, Disneyland shut down, and while visiting family would be worth the trip, if nothing was going to be open, we’d have nothing to do when we weren’t with family or friends. We cancelled our trip, and the next day, the movie theater I work at shut down.

I went to do my normal weekly shopping and—wow! A lot of the shelves were bare. I hadn’t gotten the memo that everyone needed to buy a butt-load of toilet paper (see what I did there?), rice, beans, and ramen. Produce was plentiful, and I got a few meats. Yeast was totally gone but loaves of bread were abundant. Canned goods were hit-or-miss. The next week when I did my weekly grocery trip, I went early at 7:30 in the morning hoping they had a good selection of items. I had to get creative with dinners, and we managed.

In June, my sister Glenna passed away from a non-covid illness. I was so upset. We were going to visit her on our trip in March but didn’t get to go, and now I’d never be able to visit her! I cried so hard at the loss. Her Celebration of Life was finally planned for July, with a date that everyone could agree upon. But none of us ended up going except for Glenna’s grand-daughter Alicia and her mom. Things had been better for a week or two with covid, but then cases started to go up again, so none of us went. It broke my heart to not be able to go.

Now it’s a year later, and a lot of places in the world are still locked down. Some have opened (perhaps too soon), shut down and reopened, and it’s been a roller coaster of emotions. When we were first under a lock-down (which, in Colorado, no one paid much attention to and went about their business as usual), I thought okay, I’ll get a LOT of writing done. I won’t be at work, I can just write while I’m taking care of my grandson Wolfe, and I did get some writing done—at first. In April there was Camp NaNoWriMo, where writers everywhere set word-count goals for themselves for the next thirty days and we write.

Once Camp NaNo was over, I couldn’t write. I had no motivation. I was used to being home a lot because our hours had been cut at work, and I was only working 1-2 days a week. Reid was used to working from home because he’d been doing that for over ten years. I just felt overwhelmed by everything. I couldn’t go where I wanted (if I followed the rules of staying home, which my family did), I couldn’t shop except for essentials, Reid and I couldn’t go to the movies or out to eat for our date night. Everyone was home and out of work (again, except for Reid). I worried about the economy, about people’s businesses and employment. I worried if I was going to be able to get food for my family out of what was at the store.

I wasn’t the only writer who felt like they couldn’t write. I’ve heard from several others who said they couldn’t, and some still struggle to write. This has been a heck of a year. I don’t think any of us expected this to last as long as it has. I thought we’d be shut down for a couple of months, tops. I never thought that there would be people who thought this was a political ploy against President Trump. Masks became politicized, and only “sheeple” or “liberals” wore a mask. Even still, people say this (a customer just the other night at work said it was all a liberal hoax).

I think we writers kept some of our sanity by posting and reading in writers groups on Facebook, but sometimes for me, that just made me feel worse. I wanted to write and make a living at it, at least enough so I wouldn’t have to go back to work, and I’d see writers posting about how they made such-and-such amount in royalties this month or that month, and I’d get a little jealous. Why can’t that be me? The Stay-at-Home order was not good for my mental health. I tend to get overwhelmed and shut down when I can’t figure out where to start and then I don’t do anything.

Since I couldn’t write, I decided to draw. I didn’t inherit my dad’s art skills, but I think I did okay (I’d taken an art class in high school). But what I saw in my head and what came out on paper wasn’t the same, but I didn’t hate it. Then I made a little fairy garden for my porch once I was able to go out to Lowe’s and Michaels. I ordered some things online, too. I needed something to occupy my time and create. I think the fairy garden turned out really well. It’s small, but cute.

A year later, I’m writing again. I got an idea for the 4th book in my Elixir Series that I've started writing. I started a book about the pandemic similar to my Dear Moviegoer book, and I’m back to work (for the second time). Even a year later some people don’t wear their mask properly when they come into the theater and I have to remind them to pull it up over their nose. It wears on me and sometimes I just think what’s the point? Well, the point is that I and others will stay safe if they wear it correctly, so I tell them to pull it up. They give me a look, but then grudgingly pull it up.

I’m hoping that by this time next year, this will just be a bad memory and everyone will have been vaccinated and things can go back to as normal as they can. What is your normal that you’re looking forward to?