There was a time when the pandemic felt temporary. And then it didn’t. And then it did again—vaccines!—and then nope, this is just how it is now. I know that there are people and places ignoring it but my ten-block-radius world is outdoor-masking once again. My younger daughter’s passport arrived just in time for it to join the pile of unused children’s passports, and since neither parent is from Canada, and it might be nice to you know leave it occasionally, this is something of an imposition.
Instead, it’s back to trying to buy as much as possible at each grocery trip. To weighing the necessity of each outing. The toddler swim class I signed us up for: only when my own new swimsuit arrived in the mail from the exclusive couturier that is Old Navy did it occur to me that this class, meant to start next month, is probably not happening, even if it has yet to be formally cancelled.
Will there still be daycare after the break? Or was the thing where they sent home all cubby clothes, etc., an omen, and not just a chance to do a mega-load of laundry?
This is just life now. I am glad to have seen other places when that was possible, and hopeful that my children will one day get to do so as well. Until then, I await, with anticlimatic resignation, the opportunity, on Monday, assuming the site doesn’t crash, to book my booster shot.
Probably safer there than in Manhattan. Buckle up, here we go again.
Get your booster and a croissant for road.