Coronavirus 2020

The beast.

Tomorrow, March 11th, 2021, we in Canada will hold our first National Day of Observance to commemorate the lost.

No matter who you are, or where you live, this year has taken something from you. It has taken lives, health, jobs, friendships and money.

It has given many things too. It has given loneliness and heart-break. It has also given gratitude, appreciation and resilience.

A little over a year ago, in February of 2020, I got sick. Actually, we got sick, my little 5-year-old and I.

I’m sure you know one of those families that are so outdoorsy and stoic that it’s irritating. They’re always headed off on epic cycling trips or month-long paddling excursions. They don’t have any wimpy kids in their brood, who constantly whine, “My legs are tired. Are we almost there?”

No. Their kids completed their first triathlon at the age of 6 and can easily carry a 20-lb pack as they scale mountains.

My house is so, so quiet.

For the first time in an age, I’m alone in a house filled with silence. Well, almost alone. My husband is “at work” upstairs. Employing quotes implies that he isn’t actually working. He is.

I cannot hear My Little Pony playing on the TV downstairs. I cannot hear my son humming repetitively under his breath while he concentrates on something. I cannot hear the sound of my daughter’s foghorn flute voice asking me for a cup of water/a snack/a show/another snack/help/a sweater/clean socks/a cookie/screentime/playtime.

Is the best flavour of ice cream in the world. There, I said it.

And this stuff they make at our local, Ed’s, somehow manages to capture in its frozen goodness the essence of summer campfires. Without the mosquitoes.

Forget canned beans and frozen peas. A pint or two of this is essential. For mental health. Unfortunately, like many other things in the city, essential services like ice cream stores will have to be closed for a while.