Today marks the two year anniversary of my COVID lockdown alongside most people in my state. I know this is also true for many others elsewhere. It’s always interesting to see social media memories pop up on March 12, because that was the last day of the more-typical, “Before Times.” We had no idea what was coming.
We’re still grappling with how this affected us. At the time, I felt all the disorientation that everyone did, but I could not have anticipated how remarkably isolating the next 15 months would be. I also cannot deny that alongside that unexpected struggle, I grew a lot as a person, and I wouldn’t want to give back that growth. That’s not to put a positive spin on what was traumatic for us; I’m just very aware that my struggles and growth coincided, both in very deep ways.
This was the kind of situation none of us could have ever foreseen. Now, we’re in a different position, but the pandemic is not over either. We just keep living forward in small increments of time and making meaning as we can, because how else can you live something that is uncharted? Hopefully, we haven’t lost our larger, farther cast out hopes, but maybe they come in and out of view, depending on what part of this era feels activated in our bodies at any given moment.
I don’t have any grand words or gestures to sum up these two years, either the struggles or the growth, but in both, we need to honor our grief. And it seems important to mark this day.
–Renee Roederer
Smuggling Grace 