One Year Later: I began my COVID journal on March 24th. The intent was to write down things that were catching my attention due to the pandemic. For my entries prior to March 24th, I wrote about what I recalled.
“February 22, I drove down to get Tara and we went to an Ani DiFranco concert in Eugene. No concern whatsoever about travel or interaction. People were talking about the rate of infection, and comparing it to the regular seasonal flu. On the 26th there was a headline that the rate of infection was 3% instead of 2%. Our mutual friend Liz, who had been planning a trip to Italy to visit Manja, said she was having reservations about her trip to Italy, not because she was worried about the virus, but because she was afraid that she would have to quarantine when she came back. Italy was making the news for having so many cases.”
It’s hard to put myself back into that headspace of giving so little thought to the Ani DiFranco concert. Tara and I had a fun night. We jammed into the concert hall with all those other bodies. We watched happily, shoulder to shoulder. Ani herself was sick that night, drinking copious amounts of tea between songs, singing in a raspy voice and coughing now and then. We didn’t have a moment of worry. Imagine that.
I’ve reflected back on it, that concert. Using it as a measure of one of the last moments when life was normal.
Conscious Engagement 
How auspicious
We know that now, of course.
It’s hard to imagine this insanity has been going on almost a year now. How I long for more carefree days as well. Not how I wanted to spend this precious year either. Hang in there.
Urg. The year, and I guess when I say it, I’m sort of meaning the 12-month period from when I first freaked out to a year later, and that was March 12. We’re coming right up on the one-year anniversary, in my mind. Anyway, the year has forced everyone to re-think things. Learn new habits, accept or reject new conventions, educate ourselves, find tricks for coping, find healthy (or not so healthy) ways to unleash our anger and frustration. I think every single person who has made it this far is a hero. These last 12 months have been an incredible challenge.
It’s been the hardest year so far. It’s hard to stay hopeful but we have to do just that. It’s harder to do if you are living alone. Sending big squishy hugs.
Oh yes, we all have a moment like this, I think. The last carefree day. I wrote about mine, February 22nd 2020, the day the Venice Carnival was cancelled.
I can’t even imagine how hard it was for Liz to be forced to cancel yet again. Damn. And if she arrived, she might not be able to return at all for months.
And now it’s March again and I’m doing the same limited dog rounds as last year, and this spring comes just in time: I’m able to count blooming trees so as not to lose my mind. Poppies coming up later this month.
I loved your blooms!! It made me look harder around my place to see if I could find some, but it’s still too early. I was in Portland the other day, and saw blooms on trees. I think maybe there is more heat in the city, and spring comes a little bit earlier. Also, it’s an hour farther away from the sea, and in a valley, so again, a little bit warmer than where I live. I wish there were poppies here, but I’d have to plant them.
I messaged Liz and she said there is no Visa required for Italy. yay! And how about Slovenia?
I’m pretty sure there is no Visa for Slovenia either but you should find official info somewhere.