2020. The Stillness of Time
I remember first hearing that my 18-year-olds graduating class would be recognized as the class of 2020. I remember thinking that it was going to be the most remarkable year ever and how lucky he would be to always have that title: Class of 2020.
I had some deep thoughts about the 2020 year that not many others latched onto, but I did, and my wheels were spinning.
By the time we rounded the corner of January 2020, I couldn’t think of anything but catchy 2020 phrases.
2020. When everything will become crystal clear.
2020. The lens that will make everything as clear as day.
2020. The year of perfect vision.
I anxiously awaited what 2020 would reveal.
Oddly, the year of ultimate clarity started strong and then quickly became colored with a new label: COVID-19. It became the year that wasn’t. No one spoke a word about 2020, only COVID-19. It was not about pealing back the layers, carefully revealing the ‘truth’, but instead, appeared to be holding us hostage in time.
March 13th. That is last date I recall noting. The last day I noted as just another check on the calendar, just 4 days before my son turned 23. It was the last time we rounded the table as family of six. It was the last time we shared cake gleefully, not thinking about ramifications of the candles he had just blown out. It was the last time I recall feeling carefree.
March 13th.
Carefree with candle blowing and cake-sharing.
It was the last time for many things, at least temporarily and am grateful that we we did not suffer consequences of cake-sharing that day. However, my brain quickly ended the notion of perfect vision and transitioned into a bubble of haze, with questions, worries and so much stillness. Each month ending with a question mark. Each new month beginning in awe.
How can it be May? How did we get to July?
Instead of finding clarity, the stillness of time played tricks on my mind. How was time racing by, yet standing still? How could those simultaneously happen? Months seemed to move in chunks, not dates. First March, then lockdown April, then we will see May…Suddenly July was ending.
My daughter and I sharing ‘time’.
But each day had its own remarkable stillness. I remember thinking how long April was going to feel with a 30-day lockdown and no school. How would we survive that much time together, not able to go anywhere, not able to see anyone but the people we loved in our very still bubble? Did we have enough toilet paper without having to go to the store?
Today, though, on my 54th birthday, I must pause again like I did on March 13th. Not just to embrace the day I was born, but to also notice a different sort of clarity that 2020 continues to offer. Unfortunately, that only some will notice. Like those that are able to regroup, find acceptance, stare into the eyes of their children and realize how long it had been since they noticed…their eyes. Those that have found joy in puzzles, family cooking and meals. Those that have found different and creative ways to find quiet, through meditation, yoga, new basement workouts. Workouts lead by our own children. Those that have picked up their dusty guitar again, the paint brush, the sewing kit…those that have been brewing about whether or not they were ready to retire.
Those like my son living his high school senior year through this and focusing more on his gains than his losses (as any stellar hockey stud would). Noting that covid19 helped him find himself through the long overdue time, space and quiet.
If you seek, you shall find.
Days have been longer. We eliminated the morning and evening commute, trips to the store, the gym and hours of time driving to and from sporting events and practices. We were abruptly ripped from the roller coaster ride we called life, and then transplanted.
To the Ferris-wheel.
Sit here, the world bellowed. Just sit. Be still. Talk quietly to your loved ones and be sure to notice everything around you. It will be a ride of sorts, but it will be intentionally slow. You will be surrounded by things you have seen before, but have barely noticed from this perspective. Pay attention. Notice the sights, smells and sounds. Notice the love you feel for the people on your ride. Notice the love you feel for yourself. Memorize all of it, because there is such sweetness in this once in a lifetime stillness of time that you may never have again.
Surrender and enjoy this unexpected clarity. You will no doubt miss it when it’s gone.