Tomorrow, I will start back at the office just for a couple of days a week. It’s crazy to think that it’s been two months of quarantine at home. When it all started, I told myself it would probably be two weeks. Even now, it certainly does not feel anything close to normal and the pandemic seems far from over.
I think about how things may never go back to normal. How this will almost certainly be a moment in time where there is a line in the sand—a before and an after. September 11 was that. I suspect COVID-19 will be too.
I don’t know if my kids will remember “the sickness” as they call it. I don’t know that I remember much about being 3 or 4. But if they do, I hope they remember all of the adventures they had and time we spent together. I hope they remember sneaking popcicles on the bouncy house and the sun on their skin in the swimming pool and running full speed through the green grass. I hope they don’t remember the times I’ve raised my voice and lost my temper.
There have been some adventurous moments. I can’t keep clothes on these kids. One day when I was on a big call for work, a high school girl came to entertain the kids outside. She text me, “I can’t get Braun to put on pants!” I understood. Then there was the situation with the skunk in the yard with the kids and the dog while I was on a Zoom call with the office (blog on that coming soon…) One day while I was presenting online with the door closed, the kids gave the cat a haircut. There were lots of days I would be hard at it writing a blog or and article and Harper would walk in with all her make up on. And then, there was the presentation I was waist deep in teaching about capital gains taxes when my kid walked in with a marble up his nose. You cannot make this up.
There have been sweet moments too. Every Sunday, we’ve baked together. The kids got to go with us to pick out their first heifers. We’ve spent lots of time together at the North Place and the kids say things now like “we are leasing the place over there” and “look at that broom snake weed” and “let’s play on my favorite cliff.” And I’ve gotten lots of flower (er weed) bouquets from my boy.
In the end, I think what matters has been the time together. Maybe that doesn’t just sum up quarantine, but sums up all of life.