A holiday

This has been a year of separation. A struggle of how to separate. Of when to separate. Of research and deliberation and discussion about what’s safe and what’s not — all in the service of keeping as many of us as possible, alive and healthy.

And yet these safety measures take their toll on our hearts.

Our kitchens and living rooms should be filled with the joy, laughter, and smiles of friends, family, and people who will sleep on cots, sofas, and guest beds.

Instead, we express love through phone calls, Zoom rooms, and socially distanced encounters.

A holiday becomes a bittersweet reminder that we haven’t yet gotten the virus under control.

Vaccines are working and spring is coming … but it won’t be like flipping a switch. The exhale of relief will come little by little. The first tight hug in a long time. A gathering without masks. An out-of-state guest. A sniffle without worrying that you’ve become part of a data set.

We’re just not there yet.

We are resilient, but proving our resilience is never easy.

For now, we celebrate separately so that soon we’ll be able to celebrate together.

Soon.