ONE YEAR. 12 MONTHS. 52 WEEKS. 365 DAYS.
We have been home together.
All six of us:
My husband and I, our 13yo, our 10yo, our 3yo, my mom – and our dog.
No unmasked contact with anyone else.
No visitors inside our home.
No inside visits in anyone else’s home.
No in-person school or office.
NO ILLNESS
No time off.
No babysitters.
No quiet.
No solitude.
Much of it without any in-person resources for mental-health and neuro-diversity support.
No distractions.
A chance to really see each other; to learn and grow as individuals, as a family and as parenting partners. A chance to understand each other.
It’s been a messy mix of awful and wonderful, all tangled up between us. Each day – no, hour – different. Some full of knots, others, neat bows. I’m hoping that we have survived the worst of the snags, and have unraveled most of the unknowns.
I’m intrigued, albeit anxious, about what we’ll be able to weave together before this pandemic is behind us. I’m not sure what it will look like just yet, but I know it will be interwoven with sweat, tears and a whole lot of love.