Tag: gratitude

For the second time in half a century, I did not have rutabega for Thanksgiving this year. That kind of sums up 2020, right? It’s a gray, drizzly day – the kind of day that’s perfect for hanging out in coffeeshops and that I usually love so much – which only seems appropriate. Like everyone this year, I feel loss. It’s under the surface, most of the times, because, well, I have a job, my entire family is in good health, I’m white and privileged and what, really do I have to complain about?

But I do have pain and loss, and it comes bubbling up, as it must. For me, Covid loss is the hollow emptiness of opportunity slipping away, like the grains in a Covid 2020 hourglass. While my colleagues with young kids struggle to do the impossible – balance full-time work and full-time child care/tutoring – they also – every one – speak eloquently about how much they appreciate the extra time with family and kids. Because their kids are young enough to adore them! Enforced quarantine with Nyiri hasn’t seemed to made us any closer, or even made dinner conversations any less awkward.

I haven’t gotten beefed up working out to my free premium version of Nike training club. I haven’t managed to bake up any magnificent culinary delights, or “catch up” on any amazing new Netflix offerings. The stack of unread books on my bedside table is just as high as it was in January.

All the same, I am awash with joy today, as I am every Thanksgiving. I have so so much I am grateful for! I have been blessed with so many wonderful friends and family. For me, Covid has meant more connection, not less, with friends far and wide that I don’t get enough (any) chance to see in person. If you’re on this mailing list, you know who you are. You keep me going.

I am immensely grateful for my and my family’s continued good health. I’ve been able to visit my parents – despite being in that scary over-70 risk group – they’ve been in de facto quarantine up on their home island in Maine. I figured that driving there and staying put at home with them wasn’t breaking the spirit of any travel restrictions, so when they felt safe inviting me up, I went as often as I could. We’ve walked in the woods, baked, even chased a bat out of the living room together two evenings in a row. It’s been lovely. I call them much more often than I have in years. It reminds me of how much I genuinely love them. If it weren’t for the cats and the teen daughter, I would have moved up there in March. Ah well.

Speaking of health and good fortune, Krikor, living in Tennessee, is a classic case of the difference in how the states are handling Covid. I worried about him catching it and tried to get him to come back to the “safe” Northeast to work on his online school. Luckily, he managed to get Covid in a way that reaffirms his back-of-his mind belief that it’s not a big deal and definitely not worth ruining the economy over. That is to say he’s fine. I kind of wish he’d lost his taste and smell for a few months, just to learn his lesson. But I digress. He was able to come for a quiet Thanksgiving. Logan was, in fact, dead as a doorknob on the busiest travel day of the year. He cooked dinner last night AND cleaned up the kitchen after I had a momentary meltdown over ice cream (nor for the reason you might think) and disappeared for an hour on a walk. I can’t tell you how awesome it was to come back from a well-needed cry to see the kitchen clean and tidy!

I have a job that I love, that keeps me super busy and satisfied and on time with the mortgage payments. I am grateful to be working at the Broad Institute because my boss gave me a chance despite my theory- and academic-focused non-genomics education. I can’t name a single colleague I don’t enjoy working with, and I’m doing my small part to help the world. Those are all really great feelings.

The good news… I’ve got friends and family and WiFi to keep me connected even though none of you live close enough for me to see much (if ever)  in person IRL. And of course I have Starbucks chais every once in a while to make me feel like life is a little normal.