The Family We Choose
This quarantine has me thinking about community, which I suppose makes sense, given that we’re essentially not allowed to leave our respective communities.
I’d wager that 100% of humans on this planet are affected by this pandemic — some more so than others.
You might have lost your job (temporarily or otherwise) because your company had to shut down.
Your hours may have been cut back.
Perhaps you’re learning how to homeschool your child(ren) for the rest of this school year.
Maybe you’re fortunate enough to still have a job, but you’re learning how to work from home.
Or you’re trying to work from home and home school children.
Or, like me, you’re trying to take care of a toddler while also working full-time because daycare is closed. (Before you ask why we haven’t made other arrangements, please refer to the definition of social distancing.)
Even if your work life has largely been unaffected by these events, you might simply be worried that you’ll get the virus and die.
Given that this is undoubtedly the best time to live in the world (what with modern medicine and all), I am having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that we’re in this situation.
Pandemic.
It’s tough to grasp how this has gotten so far that it received such a distinction from the World Health Organization. We don’t need to get into the details — this situation will be analyzed over and over and over again in the coming decades — but how it got this far and why doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening right now.
So as we’re all sequestered to our respective communities, I’m reminded that this is kind of how things used to be. My mom tells me stories about how she grew up and it’s always about her free rein of the neighborhood — riding their bikes all over the place, walking down the street to her friends’ houses — just as long as they were home by the time the streetlights came on.
We spread out over the years. People’s jobs are further away. We’ll drive 30 minutes to grab dinner at our favorite restaurant. We’re not all on the same city blocks as all of our friends. Hell, we don’t even know all of our neighbors’ names.
Over the past week, I’ve seen countless stories about communities coming together. I’ve seen it in my own community Facebook page. I’ve seen the videos of people playing songs together on separate balconies (my heart will indeed… go on). I’ve read stories of elderly people flagging down their neighbors because they can’t leave their houses to get food, but they’re running out. People are leaving teddy bears in their windows so kids can go on a “bear hunt.”
We’re kind of reverting, in a way. And maybe not in a terrible way.
My neighbors own a gym — we’ve always known this about them and we know where it is, but we’ve never been there. Obviously, it’s closed right now, and to make up for that, they’re keeping their own community together through Facebook Live and Zoom. I didn’t know much about what they were doing until last week, when I texted her to say I was having a wretchedly awful day and ended the message with a gif of a woman drinking wine out of an oversized glass.
Workout before wine? She responded. 5:30 in the driveway.
I changed my clothes and was ready in their driveway — about 6 feet away — just 15 minutes later.
I haven’t missed a day since, which is a major accomplishment for me, given that my fitness life has been almost nonexistent since I found out I was pregnant more than three years ago. I’m sore and my body is confused/angry/rebelling but I don’t care in the slightest. I need this. I need the stress relief and the high after the workout and frankly, the self-care.
And my neighbors have welcomed me into their tight-knit community without reservation. They’re good people.
You can believe what you want, but I believe in my gut that most people are good inside. I believe we’re all trying to do our best. Like my neighbor says, “we’re doing the best we can with what we have today.” Some days, we might be better at it than others.
This is really hard. The social isolation and the fear of getting a deadly virus and we’re all making jokes about how the world is ending, but when you get down to it — this is hard. We’re all struggling on some level.
So what I’m saying is: let’s be kind to each other. Let’s give each other some leeway. Check in on each other. Do a virtual happy hour. Find ways to connect with people. Please be extra kind to the people at the grocery store. If you can sew and you have the time, please make masks for your local hospital or elder care facility. Donate nonperishable food to pantries that help feed the poor.
As a society, as a country, as the human race, we’ll get through this. But until then, let’s tap back into our communities — into the families we choose — even if they aren’t right next door. We have the technology, so let’s use it.