What does it feel like two years later?

Today is the fourteenth year of using Twitter. That anniversary is less resonant than what happened (generally) two years ago. It was that week about two years ago that many things happened.

On March 5th, my work (at the time) declared that we’ll be all working from home. Interestingly, I was meeting with a coworker who was visiting from the NY office and so we skipped that all hands for our meeting. Because the culture was that the all hands meeting wasn’t that important. At the time, I admit that I was thinking that Covid was just some far off thing like SARs, but yes we should take precaution. And then, when I returned to my desk later, I heard coworkers say to each other, “See you in a month!”

I quickly browsed to the company internal wiki and saw what was happening. Okay, sounds good.

But outside of work? On March 8th, against the general health guidance and also Chris’ situation, Chris and I went to a gathering of cyclists to honor a colleague who was crushed by a truck while cycling. At the time, we didn’t know how covid transmitted outside. And thinking back, I was taking a risk. But it was important to talk about the unneeded tragedy of cyclists death. Especially since Chris came so close to experiencing the same thing.

And then, we went around on our usual routine to boba, plant stores, grocery stores. And then one last meal with my parents in Pleasant Hill on March 14th at a restaurant where they wanted to use a gift card. Even though Chris and I had scorned anyone who was eating in a restaurant. What were we doing? And I remember how a server coughed and everyone at the table winced.

Little did we know.’

Now two years later. Everything changed. But also nothing changed. I am sitting at my desk. Left that job. Recovering from burnout and some PTSD. Still hoping to revise my forever novel. I now have a ring on my finger. I know more about the state of my health (it’s fine in some way). Our car. But the world. The president is different. But the world in some ways because that’s the way we think, it feels worse. Tragedy after tragedy. Conspiracy after conspiracy. But is it. I am typing at a new computer with music blasting from Spotify (although I really shouldn’t). I am spending money on various forms of selfcare (namely, writing classes and the new hobby of scrapbooking). And most of all, I still haven’t caught covid.

Knock on wood.

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