What a Difference
Every morning, Facebook sends a photo to my phone from some event that happened in the past.
Sometimes I look at the photo and think, ‘Wow- that was a long time ago.’
So this week, as I was starting my day, I opened my phone and saw the Facebook ‘suggestion’ for that day.
It was a photo from back at Christmas when we were in the throes of the Covid pandemic.
All I can say is what a difference three years makes.
There were people in holiday garb, masked and standing six feet apart, rubbing alcohol on their hands as they gave each other the side eye. They looked miserable.
And, in a way, I guess they were.
For some people. But not me.
No, I was not a big fan of people getting sick and dying. I’m not Hitler.
I would characterize myself as ‘people avoidant.’
It’s not that I don’t like people. I do. Just every now and then, I like to get away from them so I can have a little ‘me’ time.
Don’t you ever just want to spend the day not having to talk or even see anyone.
I know that sounds quite humbugerry but the holidays are the only time I get to have a few days without email, texts, phone messages and zoom calls. .
Looking at those old photos reminds me how much has changed since 2020.
We spent our time washing and rewashing our hands until there was little skin left. Or debating whether a bandana, a scarf or a N95 mask was better.
We didn’t go Christmas shopping – at least not in person.
And forget going to a Christmas party. Seeing people face to face was sure uto spread the plague?
We thought all those things would never end. We would never be able to get together with friends or co-workers and drink some nasty eggnog while claiming we really like it.
We wouldn’t even be able to gather with our family for a Christmas dinner.
Nobody wanted to give the Black Death to grandma.
You think getting run over by a reindeer is rough. Try having a tube down throat, wondering if this would be your last Christmas.
For some people, it was their last Christmas.
And when it was all over, we just went back to our regular habits. Coughing on each other. Going out to dinner. Touching stuff.
I looked at the photo again and noticed how fragile and despondent we all looked.
No parties. No gift exchanges. No fatted goose on the table.
Dr. Fauci said if we did any of those things, we would surely die a horrible death with such fun stuff as blood coming out of our eyeballs.
That was three years ago. And most of us have forgotten what it was like.
I have. I don’t wash my hands as regularly as I should. I don’t wear a mask. I have a little card proving mmm that I received the Covid vaccinations- and the booster.
It’s back to our normal lives.
But will anything ever be normal again?
Just one nasty variant of the virus could put us right back where we were three years ago.
Masks. Hand sanitizer. Social distancing.
So, what have we learned from all of that? Besides how to cough into our elbow.
Well, this is what I learned.
Christmas is not about presents. I know the Grinch said that but it’s the truth.
I cannot remember most of what I got last Christmas. I’m sure it was wonderful but a year later, I couldn’t tell you what I got last year or the year before that.
It’s just stuff. It’s not important.
What I like the most about Christmas isn’t wrapped up in colorful paper and ribbon. It’s not even watching all 2,419 corny Christmas movies on Lifetime.
It’s people.
Some people who I hardly ever see, like my daughter in Phoenix. My son in Atlanta who I don’t see enough. My granddaughter who is growing up so fast, I hardly recognize her from week to week.
I don’t care about presents. Just the people I miss and love.
This year, nobody in my house will be wearing a mask. Or sitting across the room by myself because they have a runny nose, which we all know is a sure sign of the Black Death.
This year, we will all be together in one room and there will be plenty of laughs and love.
And not one single mask in sight.
Oh, what a difference three years make.
