Sunset 12/15/2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

An Observation

I had to run out to the grocery store – two, in fact – today. I needed to stock up on the ingredients necessary to fulfill my lofty snowstorm baking aspirations. In the midst of doing so, I made an observation that I wasn’t expecting: there seems to be an air of anticipation and happy excitement ahead of the snowstorm that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow.

Usually people are grumbly and cranky over an impending snowstorm. And one might think, given the severely restricted nature of our lives over the past year, that the prospect of being cooped up in our homes (yet again) as a result of a snow dump might just have people sidling even more toward the surly edges.

That did not seem to be the case. Instead, I witnessed cheerfulness and a bit more warmth from fellow shoppers and store employees than I was expecting.

Retreat

Could it be that everyone wants to get snowed in?  Is the realization of how much and how quickly the Covid-19 virus is spreading be sinking in? Is it possible that everyone just wants to hunker down and not have to think about washing their hands or making sure their mask is covering their nose and their mouth?

If we’re forced by the weather, something visible and tangible, to stay inside, then it just restores a sense of normalcy to our lives, even if fleetingly. Because let’s face it, our everyday work lives are not normal. Every day we get up in the morning and, if we have to deal with the public or report to an office or a courtroom or a nursing home or a prison, we have to entertain the possibility that we might get sick. Even if we wear our masks and stay 6’ away from everyone, the possibility exists that someone we’re talking to or walking behind may spread it and not even realize it.

And that’s a huge stress.

Find Joy

It sort of feels as though we’re all just so darn ambivalent. Of course we want to work. Not only do we (hopefully) get a sense of worth and purpose from our work, but let’s face it, it pays the bills. And yet the script that’s running quietly at the base of our skulls just keeps on whispering its relentless litany of ‘what ifs.’ A nice thick layer of snow feels like the perfect muffler to drown out the incessant worry.

May we all stop tomorrow and listen to the snowflakes as they click softly into place, piling one on top of each other. If you still have to work, may you find joy. If you get to leave your workplace early, give yourself permission to play – even if it’s only fleeting. Play. Laugh. Find joy. Remember, too, to look for it.

Sunset from the grocery store parking lot – Photo: L. Weikel

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