2020 Was My Favorite Year, Now Hear Me Out...

2020 undeniably held ridiculous amounts of fear and isolation. People were dying and ventilators were more sot after than a Chick-fil-A at lunchtime. The entire world waited for the next round of statistics and protocols; and we all stood in constant judgment of something — a stranger, our neighbor, a vaccine. But we all agreed to have over-flowing appreciation for those willing to work in the line of fire.

Anyone who lived through 2020 holds memories that are difficult and bewildering to recall. But for me, it was a significant year in every good way — making 2020 one of the best years of my life.

March 2020

I’d been in charge of the health and welfare of the students in my private school for years. But the needs of our youth were shifting, and our responses needed to catch up. I’d been pitching a promotion for two years and it finally came through on March 1, 2020. New title, higher salary, more responsibility. Yes!

Three weeks later it was announced that our two week spring break was extending to three. By the end of that extra week our teachers were told we would not reopen; they’d be instructing our 3–18 year olds from their homes; on their computers; for the next eight weeks.

I’d rather have the ventilator.

Instead of 500 students to oversee I now had just the three in my home. My new position was moot — we were closed till August or beyond.

While transforming my dining room into a makeshift schoolroom, I got a call from a friend asking if I could assist her in getting her husband off the floor. This family was special to me so I was happy to head over and maneuver the man of the house back into his recliner.

Her husbands's health issues did not stop with his slow slide to the carpet that day. It was clear he could no longer be left to his own devices while moving around their house. I began calling around for caregivers to help him. After several days it was clear — because of Covid, no one was coming- this case was mine alone.

April

When I wasn’t getting my friend up to start his day, down for a nap, or settled for the night, I was knee deep in home-schooling. Yes, the teachers were doing the “teaching” but I had boys in first and third grades so let’s be real here— I was lead facilitator. My daughter, in the middle of her freshman year, was on her own.

With all the local playgrounds closed, this friend's yard became our recess spot three times a day while I cared for her husband. The property backed up to woods where forts were built and trees were climbed. The boys were showed how to locate the mole traps my friend had placed, remove the carcasses, and chuck them into the wooded area reserved for this gruesome landing. Making this woman the coolest old lady they knew.

With no children of their own, this was the most action and activity their yard had seen or heard.

My friend had created the most amazing gardens (thus the mole traps) and taught me how to keep them in a constant rotation of blooming. Her green thumb was addictive and I found myself in a nursery by mid-month; armed with the suggested list of plants that I could keep alive. Not since 2020 has my yard had so much hanging, potted, or planted beauty. My flowers became the start of each day; dead-heading, watering and weeding. There was color everywhere. While the world outside my home was a bleak and scary place, my yard was a haven of loveliness.

May

The school gave up and called it quits a week before the scheduled last day of school. No one was sorry to see the hours of Ipad requirements and half-assed homeschooling go away.

I gave up on the search for caregivers. The fear of contagion was reasonable and palpable.

I borrowed a wheelchair so my friend's husband could end his decade-long stay inside his house and we began taking daily walks around his cul-de-sac and enjoying afternoon tea on the patio. There we were surrounded by trellis-climbing flowers, hummingbirds suspended in mid air at their feeders, and the half-acre of landscaping my friend had spent years perfecting.

In lieu of charging by the hour I’d simply asked that they pay me $100 a week — an amount my friend quietly doubled soon after. Suddenly debt was starting to diminish and this single mom was breathing easier.

The previous fall I’d set a walking goal — five hundred miles in a year. In May I decided to try running. I hated running, always had — but we were in a lockdown, what better time to try something new? What started with one tiresome block got me all the way to the my caregiving job a mile away, within weeks.

June

My outings with my friend's husband began earlier each day so he wasn’t melting in the midwest humidity. On especially hot days he’d remain inside all day, something that now truly bummed him out.

As his care needs changed I worked to find him a full-time care facility. We put out calls but all were still packed with patients or closed to new admits. I changed out his recliner for a hospital bed in the middle of his living room. This allowed him to see the birds and the knucklehead children outside his window, and watch his beloved tv shows. His position now needed to be changed every three hours which meant going to their house five to six times a day. And my friend snuck another hundred in each weekly check.

July

By July the sunflower seeds I’d planted outside my kitchen window were taller than the boys and starting to bloom; each day they’d check their height against their own.

My days were packed with running (now at 5:30am to avoid dying), constant trips to my friend's home, puzzles, games, cooking and gardening.

I’ve never been a better Mom or possibly a better human than I was in 2020.

At the end of the month the school began preparations for the August start which included bringing boarding students back to campus — from all over the world. Terrifying. My promotion now threw me into situations my resumé never would have imagined.

Six-feet stickers were placed on school carpets with directional arrows to control the hallway traffic flow. Hand sanitizer dispensers were mounted on walls — everywhere. I starred in a video reassuring our families of all the precautions we were putting into place; with my own children demonstrating the new hand-washing stations — only certain families were trusted in the buildings.

August

In August I left my home on foot and turned left. I continued turning left until I got all the way back home, completing a five mile run for the first time in my entire life.

My credit score jumped several points as cards were paid off and the debt-tunnel, created by the divorce two years earlier, shone a bright light, highlighting it’s end.

On August 31st the call came and a room was ready for my friend's husband. He was settled into his new life at a beautiful nursing facility and I was able to completely focus on being the Director of Student Healthcare — for a boarding school, during a pandemic.

September

For years my job was status quo. I was placing bandaids and serving chicken noodle soup, but I wanted to feel like an integral part of something bigger. Once the school year of 2020–2021 started I became one of the most sought after people on the payroll. Worried employees and families were texting me fourteen hours a day, seven days a week looking for direction with Covid protocols and contact tracing. The feeling of being indispensable was a welcome change.

My friend's husband couldn’t have visitors but his room was on the ground floor and his window could be visited easily. You could find his wife on that patch of grass twice a day, every day. I joined her once a week for a pantomime visit — only a rare nurse would open his window for us.

October

By October I’d spent hundreds of hours walking and running. It wasn’t just my figure that was altered; I had a newfound attitude of stick-to-it-ness, fortitude, and grit. The majority of those miles were used to work my way out of the grief and bitterness caused by the divorce and the breaking apart of my family. And it worked. The mental anguish dissolved, the communication with my ex-husband softened, and the co-parenting became harmonious. For the first time since we’d parted ways, my ex-husband came over to my house and together the five of us carved pumpkins.

November

At the end of November my friend and I put on gloves and reached through a plastic-sheeted wall to finally embrace her husband. It was a sweet and teary reunion for a couple of sixty years.

I completed my five hundred mile goal with an 8.2 mile run. It was the longest to date and undoubtedly the farthest these legs will ever see again.

2020 was traumatizing and heart-breaking to the masses. But I imagine many of us learned a new skill, or grew in some way. In the stillness forced upon us, I was given much to do — ultimately bringing me a tremendous amount of physical, mental, and financial freedom.

I am still in close touch with my friend and was sorry to lose her husband at the end of 2022.

My yard hasn’t kept up with the beauty of 2020 — the most colorful spots are provided by the basketballs littering the front yard. My job has settled down but every now and then I get a Covid question. The response is the polar opposite of 2020 — there are no protocols, make good choices and try not to sneeze on anyone.

My running ended in 2021 when my knees and hips said, please stop.

What remains are the amazing credit score and the powerful insights I gained from those five hundred miles. They were transformative and I was rebuilt. I am a damn good wife and my second husband is reaping all the rewards. I will be forever grateful for 2020 and wouldn’t take a step or a day of it back.

To those who had a much different year, I am sincerely sorry.