On Fog


This year has certainly been one for the books. We find ourselves inside a real-life science fiction movie.  We are in a global pandemic that everyone assumed would be over by April, May at the latest. But Halloween was a bust, Thanksgiving was via FaceTime, and now, a few weeks until Christmas, there is no end in sight. Everyone has pandemic fatigue… pandem-fatigue… panda-fatigue. 2020 vision. Are we allowing 2020 to color our opinion and reactions to things? Well, it’s 2020, so whatever can happen will. Murphy’s law at it’s most active.

I think we are in a fog, and we cannot really see the clear picture of what this year has been doing to us, or for us. That is why I believe this is not the time to make life changing decisions. Being locked up with your significant other 24/7 for months may make it seem like you made dreadful mistake moving in with him or her 12 years ago, but maybe you should refrain from breaking up until you have clarity. Note: You’re probably no picnic either. Do you have to chew like that? Having back-to-back daily Zoom calls with co-workers may make you want to tell them all to go straight to Hell, but I suggest you pause on that too.  Just like driving through a fog, we should proceed slowly and carefully in making turns and pivots in this season of our collective lives.

This is not a good time for heavy decision making. Heck, we haven’t even been able to decide on a President, three weeks after the election.  Dear Sweet Baby Jesus, can you decide for us please? We really do not know what we are doing down here.

I lost my Daddy in 2020, on top of pandemic, the Presidential election, and all the stuff I can only vaguely remember from January and February. Wasn’t California on fire? Or was that Australia? There was a hurricane somewhere, right? Maybe two? Daddy died June 1. He did not have COVID – an amazing fact based on his refusal to socially distance. The man was a dyed in the wool hand-shaker. My sister, brother, and I broke him out of the hospital so we could keep our promise that he would not die there. The hospital personnel didn’t prevent us from taking him (visiting was prohibited, but removing the patient oddly was not). However, the three of us would have broken whatever laws we had to break to ensure he was home when Jesus called. In my mind’s eye, that was a foggy morning. Daddy was foggy. The drive behind the ambulance was foggy.  There was only one thing we could see clearly and that was getting Daddy home. Six hours later, he joined Mom in the land of uncloudy days.

Fog makes things appear differently than they do on a clear day. Maybe they are better, maybe they are worse, but mostly they aren’t real.

I suspect we will one day return to our offices full time and we will suddenly miss having lunch EVERY *&$#& DAY with our significant other. One day, we will have to dress to attend meetings, instead of multitasking in our pajamas, and we will miss that, too. One day, the kids will get back on that school bus and parents will… well, OK, most of them will rejoice, I’m sure.

Until then, we should continue to make wise decisions, like pushing away from the table and taking daily walks, but I think we pause on major decisions. Stay married. Keep your day job. Stay in (virtual) school, kids. Stay the course. Rest. Don’t cut your hair. Keep the car another year. Learn something. Renew your mind. Keeping looking for the lighthouse. Wait until the fog clears before getting your 2020 tattoo. Maybe, you’ll decide it doesn’t really need to be in permanent ink after all.

Featured photo by Todd Godley Photos. Instagram: @freshprinceofyukon.

02 comments on “On Fog

  • Wanda Hall , Direct link to comment

    Good message here! I haven’t read anything in nearly two weeks thanks to covid, until this. Love this blog!

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