Dear Corona
You seemed to come out of nowhere but in truth, if we’d been paying attention, we would have noticed that you and your cousins have been around for a while, possibly millennia. But we can be forgiven if we didn’t see you coming. How could we have known that you co-exist with some animal species with impunity, but could wreak so much havoc on the human species? While your microscopic organism might look like a colourful alien spaceship with no landing gear, you had the power to stop us in our tracks, demanding notice with your attention-getting behaviour. We were gobsmacked like a ton of bricks. But you also did something else: You taught us to take the time to review a few things about our lives. You gave us a new perspective.
You made us realize the importance of the hugs and personal interaction we sometimes take for granted. We rediscovered that humans are hardwired for physical connections; virtual hugs and air kisses while standing two metres apart are just not the same. Families have had the time to put down their smartphones and bond over meals. Kids needed extra cuddling. We paused and thought about our loved ones and how important they are for our physical and emotional wellbeing.
Dear Corona, you made us proud to be Canadian, to live in a country with a safety net, and caring governments who put people’s health ahead of everything else. It may not be perfect, and many people have suffered, but we need only look around the world to see much worse.
You helped us seriously rethink our priorities and value the front line and behind-the-scenes workers who keep us healthy and fed: The grocery store staff, nurses, caregivers, doctors, first responders, government workers, food processors, truck drivers, and I’m sure I’ve forgotten so many. Everyone pitched in and worked together, enabling the rest of us to stay safe.
You made us grateful for the little everyday pleasures in our lives. Like neighbours, parks, knitting, baking, funny videos of people’s dogs, and the boundless creativity of people cooped up in their homes. In our isolation, there were days when the most exciting thing we did was get dressed to take out the garbage. We learned the value of trade-offs, like deciding whether scoring a bottle of wine was worth the line-up to get into the store, then grateful to substitute our less favourite brand when our first choice was out of stock.
Dear Corona, you helped us consider the most vulnerable in our communities and wonder how we take care of them, what their daily lives are like, the conditions they live in, and how they’re protected from infections.
Thank you for showing us how resilient humans can be in a time of crisis and how we can rise to the occasion. After the first week of shock and disbelief, in spite of your attempts to defeat us, we settled into self-isolation as the new normal and, more or less, behaved responsibly. A few short months ago, who would have thought that schools, exercise classes, business meetings – just about everything – could go online. But we made it happen, stretching our behaviour changes way past our collective comfort zones and still remaining positive, recognizing the importance of supporting each other and kindnesses that pay back. We embraced the lifestyle changes living with you necessitated. Virtually embraced, not hugged, because that would be too close for comfort and now we prefer to keep two metres apart. Who knew that most of us who have not lived through a war or depression, would have been able to muster the strength to adjust our behaviour to such a significant degree. We have had it so good for so long, we thought we were too soft to change.
You made us realize that it’s possible to slow down. Slow enough to be amazed at how the late afternoon sun in April falls across the sky and lights up the clouds. We were so busy and scheduled before, we barely noticed March and April: They were the months we endured while we waited for summer. But in the spring of COVID, we have had time to watch the daily growth of the buds on the trees as we dawdled to the speed of slow motion. We explored the parks and ravines in the cities where we live, and listened to the layers of birdsong we hadn’t noticed before.
Thank you for helping us bond with acquaintances who have now become good friends. We have shared our honest, raw emotions and frustrations in ways we haven’t before. We talked. We listened. We banged on pots and pans, we exercised in the streets, we strengthened connections with neighbours.
So, you see, dear Corona, you may have seriously interrupted our lives, even turned them upside down, but far from dampening our spirit, you have given us a surprising gift: To be more appreciative of what we have, and to live each day more thoughtfully. But, if you don’t mind, we’d rather you left as quickly as you arrived, and we’re hoping you don’t return. One visit was enough.
Sincerely, The World