Hopeful Beginnings
As the cooler temps arrive and I am seeing a few yellow leaves on the trees outside of our house I can feel Fall sneaking in. Time moves so strangely now. Days are so long but weeks fly by and in what feels like an instant the long summer day’s are winding down. I think we found summer amid the pandemic, at least we tried. And now we are again facing a new season, a new challenge to figure out our “pandemic normal” since sadly this is not fading away with the summer days.
Fall has always been my favorite season- the cooler temps, changing leaves, pumpkins and the feelings of a fresh start as a new school year begins. Of course, there were years before I had my son that I wasn’t connected to a school calendar but even still I marked my year’s this way. The anticipation of new school supplies, teachers, new friends and activities for me has always been grounded in excited anticipation and hope for all that awaits in the coming year.
Even though life looks different now, and I think it will for some time, I can still feel my Fall feelings bubbling up, gathering my son’s new supplies and items to make the start of this year still feel special for him. I hear his optimism and hopefulness as he exclaims how he can’t believe he is a first grader and I know even a pandemic can’t take this away from him.
Again, I feel our rare disease life has better prepared us for this moment. Every year as school begins, I share our son's "handbook,” as I call it with his new teacher mapping out what exactly has to be done to ensure he remains reaction free. It feels funny that many of the items are now being used by everyone- lots of hand washing, keeping distant and not sharing supplies.
Many may be surprised that we have elected the hybrid option for our son which puts him in the classroom 2.5 hours a day and the rest of the day online. While we have still not set foot in a supermarket or any indoor establishment other than a doctor office, this may seem odd, many hours of the day it does to me too. But since I fear this is our reality for the foreseeable future, and the numbers around us are so low, in this moment, we felt the benefits outweigh the risks. That and my husband and I no doubt still have lingering ptsd from our Spring of working full time and teaching Kindergarten.
But it is hard to imagine what this Fall will really be. Will school feel like school? Will we celebrate the Fall holidays? Will there be a second wave? How stressed out will I be as cases are reported? Will school eventually be fully virtual? What will happen if we get sick?
As I think about all of the unknowns, I try to remind myself that just like I do every day with my own illness, I just have to take it a day at a time. I know there will be days we feel like we have it figured out and leap forward but that there will also be others when it all unravels and we take steps backwards. I often call this my rare disease dance, but I am starting to realize that this time, the entire world is dancing with me.
So while I know there will be challenges this Fall, in ways I right now could not predict, I know that I must stay present and patient and open to the changes that will inevitably arise. But I also must remember to not just go through the motions, that I still must find the joy and magic around me- because even the pandemic can't take away the feelings of the crisp cool air, the crunching of leaves under my feet, and the hopeful smiles on the first day of school filled with dreams for the year ahead.
