The weight of this year has been something I've carried daily; wondering, hoping, believing, in a better tomorrow. I've gone to bed nightly, hoping that the morning will bring new joy, new hope, and healing. But, it has not. It has brought new challenges, new heartache, more pain, more obstacles. And we are still here, right in the thick of it, completely unsure of the future. Numbers rising, more deaths, tragedy.
We are in a global, a worldwide pandemic, and there is nothing anyone can do to stop it.
As a business owner, COVID has taken a lot from me. It has stripped away the security and comfort I had financially, it took away my confidence in raising a business to be successful, altered plans for our family, and it changed the way I saw the people around me; showing the ugliness of human kind, the ignorance, confusion, distrust, and fear all around me. It has shown me the vanity within my own life, the greed I didn't know was there deep down. It has revealed my weakness and fear surrounding failure, the very real fear of losing everything I've worked for, my need for control, my desire to be independent.
But, I'm not here to talk about COVID and what it has destroyed.
There are times over the last 10 months where I have wondered if the curve will ever be flattened enough to return to life as we knew it, will a vaccine ever give security back to those of us who crave it, will business ever go back to, dare I say it, normal... or have we entered a new way of life, where our children are learning across technology, human interaction limited, distancing enforced, guidelines mandated--where home offices are the only workspace, no more need for big offices, corporations, or in person meetings. What if this year is the beginning of a new age? What will you miss most from the world before 2020? What has changed you?
For me, this is the year that I grew up.
This is the year that taught me what matters, the things that are important and the things that hold value. It taught me less about business, less about numbers on a profit & loss sheet, less about market values, itemizing square footage, or exponential growth. I could sit here and say that COVID has brought families closer, more quality time, and more solid memories, but for me, it was the stillness that brought the most learning, not the business. Instead, it brought dinners around the kitchen table, something prior to this year, I've never valued or needed. It has brought quiet moments on the patio, reading books about living on faith, snuggling with pets, and raising my daughter to be bold, but kind. It has shown me the importance of commitment, of following through with promises, of holding one another up when mountains fall, and that stillness is not something to fear. It has shown me that life begins when the world stops.
Last year, prior to COVID, we threw my daughter an extravagant birthday party, with surprise princesses, a cake bigger than life, balloons, dancing, and a 10,000 sq. ft. entertainment center filled with just the people who love her. She hadn't ever had a birthday party prior so my heart felt compelled to give her something bigger than what her little mind could ever even imagine. And, it was amazing. We've shared memories, and talked about her birthday party over the last 12 months, and she will smile from ear to ear. Whenever she would remember a gift she received, she'd run to her room, scurry around to find it, and run back with it, excited to tell me all about how she felt unwrapping it and playing with it for the first time. We talked about how she burned her hand on the candles, how everyone sang happy birthday, and how Queen Elsa said she was the most beautiful. And she loves looking back and thinking about that party, and I love that she remembers.
This year though, there were no balloons, no princesses, no big cake. She turned five in the quietness of our own home. There was only little cupcakes with sprinkles, just one candle, and gifts that me and my boyfriend wrapped quietly the night before. I love my daughter more than life, she is everything beautiful in this world, sassy, and wild, and bold. And when we started planning this big birthday party again this year, right in the middle of the pandemic, we, or more so I, wanted rainbows and unicorns, her favorite things right now, complete with pony rides, a rainbow tier cake, and little rainbow masks for her friends. We were going to invite her brother and sister, have special little shirts, and goody bags for everyone. It was going to be the joy at the end of the tunnel of 2020.
But then, my little girl, my perfect and sweet and beautiful tiny girl, said no.
I've gotten so caught up in how much we have lost this year, the heartbreak, the anger, the failed dream that I have allowed that hurt to stain every area of my life, even motherhood. I've looked back on the last 10 months and have thought how miserable we have all been, however, in reality, it was more me, than her. I've thought about how much she has lost, the missed gymnastics classes, soccer lessons, and her spot at preschool. Oh, how she loved her friends at preschool. I thought about all the holidays she missed with my family, Easter, the fourth of July, birthdays, and the barbecues for all the little things in between. I thought about how much she had to watch me crunching numbers and worrying over business decisions, how she lost her playroom because I needed an office, and how she had to stay with me everyday now, rather than play with her friends at school. And my heart needed a big birthday party to make it all up to her.
But, when we talk about the last year, my little girl smiles. She talks about late nights where we watched movies and ate popcorn, made cupcakes in the middle of the night for no reason at all. She talks about snuggling in and sleeping in during stay at home orders, dinner around the kitchen table, her daddy cooking us dinner. She talks about sprinklers in our backyard, a little kiddie pool in our living room, and swimsuits in the bathtub. She talks about long car rides, hikes in the summer, ice cream outside, popsicles at bedtime, and how we searched really hard and had to go to a lot of stores to find toilet paper once. She laughs when she tells you that once she had to use a kleenex after going potty. She talks less about things, and more about memories. She smiles, and giggles, and hugs, and kisses, more than she has since I've known her.
And when I asked her what kind of day she wanted for her birthday, so excited to tell her about the rainbows and unicorns and big party plans, she whispered and said, "I just really want another day with mommy and daddy and me."
And, as heartbroken as I was that we wouldn't have the memories of a big party this year, I listened to my girl and that's exactly what we did. In the quietness of our home, our little girl turned FIVE years old and to her, it was her most favorite day yet.
This, this was the gift of 2020.
This was the joy at the end of the tunnel, a really long, and trying year, filled with both hard and tragedy, but small moments of goodness, too. And, that's what I'll hold onto.
Our life, everything that matters to us now, began the day the world stopped; and it is everything.
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