…progress
progress (n) - a forward or onward movement (as toward a journey, project, or goal); gradual betterment
Birthdays are a great time for reflection - where I was a year ago and how much has changed. A year ago, on March 13th, the world was shutting down, and it was happening on my birthday.
Our collective COVID journey was only beginning, and there was no way of knowing the magnitude of change that was upon us. As the weeks, then months passed, we gradually found new and different ways to function, cope, connect, let go, and grow. The concept of time felt more fluid - there were moments when time felt like it was standing still, and then there were days and weeks that seemed to fly by.
We were doing our best while being separated and isolated from the people, places, and events we love. I noticed how conversations became less about doing and more about feeling. We were checking in with each other, asking about how someone was feeling, what they needed, and how we could help. Reminders that this was “a lot” to process and that it was okay if there were times we felt tired and wanted to rest. It was okay to ask for help. As we each celebrated our pandemic birthdays and special moments - we found new ways to accept change, measure progress, and gradually take steps forward.
As the pandemic’s one-year mark - and my birthday - drew near, I wondered what the coming year might hold. There were signs of progress and hope- as each frontline worker, teacher, or person with high health risk was vaccinated. I’m in a lower priority list group and knew there’d be a wait… and then I received word of a special gift arriving only days after my birthday.
I was finishing with a client when my cell phone rang. It was the local Walgreens pharmacy, and I assumed they’d be confirming my appointment. Normally I would’ve let it roll to voicemail - however - there was nothing normal about this past COVID year – so I answered.
It was the pharmacist. He wasn’t confirming; rather, he had a question. “Is there any way you could come for your appointment today?” I agreed, and an hour later, I sat next to him, trying to grasp the enormity of the moment. I’m not too fond of needles and typically close my eyes, but not this time. I watched the pharmacist prepare the vaccination and land the needle in my left arm. He covered the spot with a band-aid and asked me if I had any questions. He asked me to stay in the waiting area to be sure I didn’t have a reaction.
I thanked him and asked him why he had asked me to come a day early. There was an extra dose for the day, and he was calling people hoping that someone would be available. “You’re the first to answer. You’ve helped me make sure we don’t waste a single dose and keep our progress against this thing moving forward. So, thank you… and happy birthday.”
We mark time with the special moments that live deep in our hearts and measure progress in terms of movements and milestones. The bandaid on my aching arm was tangible evidence of both. And while I have no idea what the coming year holds, I hope that when you celebrate your birthday, you’ll consider sharing in the wish I made for mine. That we continue to be less afraid to ask for help, and conversations about feelings and emotional wellness stay in front. That slowly, we’ll be able to lower our masks - even for a few moments - to share a smile and laugh. That soon, there will be hugs and more hugs given freely and fully from friends and family. And… that we collectively agree to intentionally meet each other with a greater sense of kindness, empathy, and communal support that was born from our year in isolation.
~ Aloha ♡ Kate
