Day #276 Writing Through COVID-19: Holiday in COVID

We are now into the 40th week of pandemic living. What does it look like?

This morning my daughter flew on a near-empty plane from Denver to Utah, where she'll spend the holiday with her twin brothers. This was the first flight for any of my family since February.

Harrison is working ski patrol at Sundance, and Stuart will roll in from Montana on the 23rd. I voted thumbs-down on this meetup during a pandemic, but no one asked for (or listened to) my vote. They're adults. They've been on the responsible end of the COVID-safety continuum. They'll be around each other, but mostly outside. And the view is fabulous. 

We skied as a family for years. Other than the impossible 10-hour drives to and from Colorado (with eight people in a Suburban, there is 0% chance all will be content at any given moment), it was the perfect vacation for us because we could spread out across a mountain and physically exhaust ourselves.

One morning as Dan and I were bundling up our (too many) children in the locker room, I saw two men, bearded identical twins, who took note of my own pair of look-alikes. As we chatted, they said they no longer lived in the same state, but met up each winter to ski. I remember thinking how cool it'd be if my sons had that type of friendship in years to come. And they do. And their sister is with them. I will savor their videos and photos this week as my vicarious holiday.

Polly en route to Utah!

We'll have a family Zoom party on Dec. 24, and I'll play accordion carols with my mother-in-law on Christmas day. But we won't attend Christmas Eve church services. Dan and I agreed that a Christmas dinner with all the fixings is not what we need as we're trying to keep COVID-sedentary winter bodies from overflowing the waistbands. 

I asked my niece, a florist, to make a garland for the mantel. It is gorgeous and gives us a scent of pine without...the tree. 

I put out holiday floor rugs and dishtowels. I might still hang the stockings (or not). 

This makes me want to gather my whole brood here on the farm in 2021. Even without COVID, we are rarely all together. The last time was nearly two years for Max and Andrea's wedding. But if the vaccine can allow us all to travel again, it will be my 2021 goal. 

Harrison on the lift.
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The rest of my day was filled with stay-put activities, such as sending my weekly emails to parents and reading a new book. The afternoon's accordion practice with my mother-in-law was a grueling hour of our decidedly unmusical "Oh, Little-Town-of-Bethlehem." 

But time spent making music is immersive. We forget we are distanced across the room, our faces moist behind our masks.

Tonight Dan and I are rattling alone in the house. I am looking toward the light at the end of this tunnel. I'm at mile 19 of the 26-mile marathon. 

You?

Enough.

Be well.

Write.

Allison