What a wild start to the decade. Just three months in, and we’re in a pandemic. I think we’re all still reeling from shock and the stress of it all. And, as our public health officials remind us, we’re just at the beginning.
I’ve had a few near misses with coronavirus. In February, it canceled a work trip to Hong Kong. In March, the same with a trip to Paris in March. How can I complain when I’m lucky enough where I even have a chance to go to these places for work? Each time, I knew days before the event was officially canceled that I wouldn’t be attending. The disappointment slowly settled while I was buoyed by relief. And in the end, I feel grateful for the risk assessment and happy to sit put.
Beyond the canceled events, I’m baffled that I didn’t see this coming. I tracked the virus as the numbers moved skyward in China, and then in Europe, but I still didn’t fully imagine doing the same here at home.
It became very real as COVID-19 canceled my birthday. Well, not entirely. I turned 33 this St. Patrick’s Day. The already low-key dinner date at an Italian restaurant I’ve been wanting to try was nixed as the restaurant, rightly so, has shuttered its doors for the time being. The City of Vancouver, to put a fine point on it, ordered all restaurants and bars in the city to close for St. Patrick’s Day. Sensible, yes, and a marker of the days to come.
As I lamented these wee inconveniences, I recognized how lucky I am to be able to type, healthy, happy, and at a social distance. D and I modified our plans to support another of our fav local pizzerias and clicked glasses at home to another circle around the sun. I chatted with friends and family across the country and city via video, foreshadowing the days to come.
And in all the doom, gloom, and serious illness, I have found some spots of hope. In my birthday tradition of reflecting on the year, I thought I’d spend some time pondering five bright spots in this strange time:
She repeated that international sign for food, and then gestured to her belly. Only then I realized that she was quite pregnant, maybe five or six months. At that moment, I also pulled out my iPhone to stop the podcast I was enjoying. The two movements combined reminded and humbled me of my incredible luck in being born to a loving, wealthy (by world standards, not North American ones), Canadian family. I tucked away my iPhone and mustered my minor Hungarian to offer to buy some food for her at a nearby restaurant.