Let’s just say, I felt as if I were moldering in place. As our family’s collective hard time eased, I began having my own personal hard time. But it carried its own complications too. It was a luxury that felt like a necessity. And so, I gradually put my career into an induced coma to prioritize our kids. Beneath the warm, opioid glow of family movie night, there seemed to be the potential for some darker disorderliness and pain. While there were many moments of laughter and togetherness, life in our household also felt precarious and strained. Until recently, the case counts were low.Įven so, at the onset of the pandemic, my wife and I were both working, and our daughters were 11 and 6. Relatively speaking, we were exquisitely comfortable and safe - literally on an island, the semirural suburb of Seattle where we live. In the most important ways, my family was fine: healthy, housed, employed and buffered from the crisis by circumstance, privilege and luck. I’d had a bad pandemic, though not nearly bad enough that I feel entitled to complain about it, and definitely not to complain about it publicly. īy the time I pulled into Spokane, I was furious at myself for coming to Spokane. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.
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