On Thanksgiving 2020, we were cooking happily, expecting my son’s girlfriend to join us soon. Cooking was one of the things that we had dug into as a family during the pandemic, so this dinner was going to be ambitious. I had brined the turkey for the first time. It was our first Thanksgiving in this house, too. Our 2019 Thanksgiving was challenged by my broken arm. I didn’t even help cook.
In 2020, we were gung ho. We were putting on the full dog and pony show. As an aside, we also love the National Dog Show on Thanksgiving.
My cell buzzed with a text, and I presumed it was my brother or sisters chiming in with their holiday greetings and pics. I wiped my hand on my apron, feeling very much like Julia Child, and pulled the phone toward me with my pinky finger.
But, instead, It was my son, texting from the other room. Texting from the other room is not unusual when you live with millennials, but this was shocking news. His girlfriend had tested positive for COVID.
“She can’t come. I can’t come out of my room. I’m probably infected too.”
It was such a blow. We all ate Thanksgiving dinner on paper plates, in our own rooms, separated, full of dread and fear.
My husband had been downsized earlier that month, after working at DC Comics for over 25 years. And that hadn’t occasioned anywhere near the same level of concern. We felt stopped in our tracks. Punched in the chest.
I don’t know why I’m telling this story, except to say that feels like a lifetime ago, not just a year. My son had a relatively light case of COVID – though I don’t think he’d say it was easy. His girlfriend and others in her family also recovered. The rest of us managed to quarantine and isolate from one another, so none of us tested positive. That was the longest two weeks in my life.
It is worth looking back with gratitude, even as we look forward. Life is so different now regarding the dread COVID 19, and yet not different enough.
I’m grateful for vaccines, and dogs, and a happy and comfortable home. And I’m grateful that even if one of us were to test positive for COVID 19 now, we wouldn’t fear for our lives. We are much better protected from both infection and the worst outcomes. I’m grateful for boosters.
In 2020, I also participated in NaNoWriMo, adding 50,000 words to my current novel. It’s just lucky that I had finished the 50,000 word goal before that dramatic Thanksgiving and the existential threat.
That, by contrast, seems like just yesterday. Ahh… the human mind, right? I’m so grateful I wrote that full, first (shitty) draft of a novel, by virtue of NaNoWriMo and writing with my Mighty Writer clients, week after week. This weekend, my husband and I left on the Friday after Thanksgiving for San Diego. He will be networking at the first comic convention post-pandemic, and I’m tackling that shitty first draft rewrite on a long weekend in his nice hotel.
Life is better this year than last. We’ll stay the course, and do what’s important to us. Traditions mark our time. Holidays make our years remarkable. And this has been an exceptional couple of years. We’re not there yet. But Thanksgiving is the return to normal that we need. Turkey, cranberry sauce and lots of leftovers. It’s as normal as Apple Pie.