This past Thanksgiving, all our grandkids were visiting. At one point, three-year-old Bea and four-year-old Hank decided to prepare for an imaginary beach trip. Hank packed several face masks into his yellow leather bag and Bea jammed a bunch into her blue vinyl purse. Then, off they went, pushing an umbrella stroller filled with stuffed animals.

Face masks? Why not bathing suits and sunscreen?

I realized these two little ones had spent most of their sentient lives in a pandemic. Life during covid is the only life they have ever known. It’s no surprise that they’d pack the masks first. I should have been surprised that they forgot to take hand sanitizer or “hannatizer” as our oldest grandchild, used to call it.

            My friend’s daughter, Tess, was born in late December just as the pandemic started. Their family sequestered during the initial fifteen months of Tess’s life. Then one day, my friend took her daughter to an outdoor playground. Tess spotted a little girl her age. She put her arms around the child then rested her head on the little girl’s shoulder. My friend felt quite moved by the sight. She realized that Tess had never seen a being her own size and age. Tess hadn’t known they existed!

            Another friend’s son, Dan, happened to be mid-senior year when the pandemic started. The littlest ones among us have known no other world, but Dan had been expecting to enjoy one last season playing a sport on a team he loved. He assumed  that he’d perform at the spring concert, attend the senior prom, go to beach week then walk at graduation. He didn’t get to experience any of those milestone events. Even though nothing could make up for the losses, his wise mom invested in an outdoor firepit where her kids and their friends could gather with others in relative safety. Now the son is off at college, doing as well as can be expected during a pandemic.

            I’ll have to admit, omicron’s recent arrival on the world stage has knocked me for a loop. Last month, I spent many hours preparing for a winter-long class that I’d intended to teach in person, including improv exercises and plenty of participant discussion. Right now, I am googling, “How to Liven Up Zoom Sessions…” I’ve started by enabling the Improve Your Facial Appearance feature on zoom. It is shockingly effective. If you squint, my zoom-adjusted face looks ten years younger. You might even mistake me for a movie star.

            I guess my motto for 2022 is going to be “pivot,” a term I’ve grown to loathe. However, I will buckle down and pivot. This winter, I will host tiny outdoor gatherings by a propane heater in the yard. I will learn how to create breakout rooms on zoom. I will hope my exhausted physician-husband makes it through another grim winter of covid.

At this writing, there have been over five million deaths in the world due to covid, not mention the many survivors who continue to suffer from long haul covid symptoms. So, please get a booster and wear a face mask that works. In the not-too-distant future, when we are past this mess, I hope that my grandchildren will only need to think about packing bathing suits and sunscreen for their imaginary beach trips. A happy and healthy new year to one and all!

(Note: for privacy, I’ve changed the names of the children throughout.)