I have pretty much been letting Harley watch as much TV as she wants as part of her unschooling/homeschooling approach. I know, mom of the year right here. But really, it feels like it’s the apocalypse and if some screentime makes the world seem better for any of us, why not binge watch the hell out of your favorites?
I have been debating with myself about blogging. Not because I have any hesitation about what’s right or wrong, but because it feels like mine isn’t the voice that should be speaking right now. I don’t want to take up airtime or energy or distract from those who have better words, more important stories, or are on the forefront of this conversation. But it’s also vital that I not remain silent, and that I make it clear to any and everyone I know where I stand.
We all agree that time has been moving at such a weird rate. I guess pandemics do that to socially constructed concepts. Time has been so fluid, that I actually just had to Google “how many weeks since March 13, 2020”. Big Brother Google was kind enough to confirm my attempt at manually counting weeks – EIGHT! 8 weeks since Harley’s last day at school. 8 weeks since I was in the office. How different life was, just 8 weeks ago.
It has been intriguing during this pandemic. Whether it’s because people have more time during lockdown, or an increased desire for human connection, I think we’ve all been reaching out to each other more. I’ve reconnected with old friends from university, had happy hours with friends, and generally tried to message people I care about more. But there’s a question we all ask that truly doesn’t have a good answer.
There is so much to say about what’s going on. About our family, our life, and this wild state of the world. But I want to use this time and these words to dive into something that I’ve heard other people saying and even found myself talking about. The desire for things to go back to normal. Will that ever be a thing again? Or will our definition of normal be forever altered?