I already knew the answer before I called my dad.
“Just checking in on holiday plans,” I said as we talked on the phone. “I’m going to assume we are not getting together.” The answer was no, as I expected. It makes sense this year, with the pandemic numbers climbing, but it struck me that this would be the first time in many years that we wouldn’t be together for the holidays. Even when Mom died, a few days before Thanksgiving six years ago, we still had the neighbors over for a big turkey dinner. It was bittersweet knowing he’d be just down the road, enjoying an entirely separate celebration with his girlfriend and her sister, while Mike and I passed the serving platters back and forth to each other.
As a country, we’ve faced such a challenging year, surrounded by stories of heartbreak and loss, stressed by politics, and forced to roll with so many changes to our daily life and routines. People we know have lost jobs because of the pandemic, or even worse, have lost their loved ones. Life is nowhere close to normal.
This year has been a reminder to me about how much we need to be around people. I liked the idea of working from home until I realized how quiet our house was and how much I missed the busy rhythm of the office. I miss the white noise of people talking around me at a coffee shop or the lively buzz of the gym with dozens of people running and pedaling and climbing to nowhere. I worry about the older folks in our community, living in facilities where family and friends can’t visit, missing out on hugs and smiles from the people they love.
Maybe by the time this virus recedes, we’ll discover we have grown stronger and more resilient. I see signs of change already. December feels different than March did. In March, we were stockpiling toilet paper, desperately searching for N95 masks, and wiping down our groceries with Lysol before putting them away. Yesterday, I looked at our basement stockpile of food and realized we had more than we need. It’s time to give back to the folks who truly need it. This week, we’re going to bag up some of the pasta, rice, canned tuna, and chicken stock, maybe even some of the precious rolls of Costco toilet paper, and deliver them to the local food shelf.
I know we’ll make it through this holiday season, even if we can’t all be together. We’ll still drop off plates of cookies on our neighbors’ doorsteps and mail cards to the people we love. We’ll video chat with friends at our kitchen table and talk to family members on the phone to hear how they’re holding up.
And on Christmas Eve, we’ll watch church services online, light a candle, dim the lights and listen to the choir singing “Silent Night.” Without the hustle of holiday seasons past and with no guests or family to entertain, we’ll have time to sit quietly, alone together, thankful for what we have been given and hopeful for better days ahead.