My husband (but at the time boyfriend) and I moved from Philadelphia to Brooklyn in 2014, with the wide-eyed intention of "making it" in the big city as writers. It would be the first time I ever lived outside of Philly, 99 miles away from everyone I knew and loved except for him. As someone who spent every free nonworking moment with her friends or family, the move at first was beyond devastating. I thought that the 99-mile distance between our two cities was catestrophic.
I had no idea six years later I'd know a greater pain of being at most 45 minutes from the folks I love and not being allowed see them for an entire year … with a toddler.
I have always had a fairly independent spirit and will opt to at least try to get it done myself before involving anyone else.
So when the pandemc first hit, I was stressed but not hopeless. And the first few days were ultimately fine. But as time wore on, my patience grew thin. The promise of a May reunion morphed into a July one, and it began to truly sink in just how much we were going to be missing.
It wasn't just missing family and friends that spun us into despair.
It hit me just how much I needed my community too. The option of tiring him out with random neighborhood kids at the park was gone. There were no more quick trips anywhere. A visit to the library? Nope. Small walk around the local … anything? Gone. Not to mention losing his day care and all of his friends and teachers who really helped him grow. It really never occured to me how much I needed all of them until they were gone.
A year later and being fully vaccinated, we're reentering society with fresh eyes.
I don't take one interaction for granted now. Each time we're at a checkout, I make an effort to chit chat. We hang out on Sundays with an open door so whoever is vaccinated and wants to stop by can do so. We move slower and more deliberately, and we relish in the times we get with others.
This past year has been utter hell, but one thing I can confidently say is that it changed me for the better. And I'll never take my "village" for granted again.
