Oh, 2020. Are you lucky that heartache is so hard to get a picture of? When we look back on this saga will we actually remember? Or will we grow to be like those inconsiderate grocery store shoppers who croon “enjoy every minute!” as my kids knock over a display of headache medication?
Are you blessed or cursed by the epidemic of societal amnesia? When we blast middle schoolers and pregnant women, claiming to have loved school and pregnancy, we’ve forgotten. And in our blissful forgetting, we inflict others: we leave them in their pain.
Maybe all of this was “fine and good and worth it” and maybe it was wretched. Maybe we all make it what we need it to be. But if it was wretched, then one day things won’t be so wretched. And if it was fine, things will always be fine: they will always be whatever this is.
So, 2020, I’m keeping my lows. I think I’ll store them in a box somewhere. And when the sun returns and I’ve forgotten this storm, I’ll remember you. I’ll remember you, and then enjoy that sunshine a little more.