pandemic year 2 – Much That Is Fair

Where Sadness Makes Sense

If you should ever move to Minnesota, the only thing people will ask you about is how you survive the winter. After all, they may not be able to find the state on a map, but they know it’s cold. Is it true that the University of Minnesota’s buildings are all connected via tunnel? (Yes.) How cold does it get? (This winter, I believe the lowest it’s been in Minneapolis is -20˚F. The lowest recorded temperature in Minnesota was -60˚F, recorded in Tower, MN in 1996). Is your coat warm enough? (Yes, I promise). And so on.

Fidelity

On Wednesday, January 6th, 2021, I made the mistake of scheduling an eye exam for mid-afternoon. This meant that just as the rioters were breaking into the Capitol, I was having my eyes dilated, and subsequently lost my ability to see clearly for a few hours. Having heard just enough before I went in to know that something was going on, I tried to look at my phone anyway, before remembering, belatedly, that there are other ways of getting the news and turning on NPR for my walk home instead.

Endurance

Somewhere in the first weeks of the pandemic, a knot settled in my chest. It falls in the middle of my sternum, some physical manifestation of grief and stress and whatever else we have all shouldered these past twenty months. It ebbs and it flows, but it has settled between my ribs and made its home there. In doing so, it has become my most constant companion over the last year and a half, with me through every loss and setback, every step forward.