Spring Ahead

A year ago last Sunday we had our last carefree day of being out in the world. We spent the weekend in Boston with kids and grandkids, a regular visit enjoying each others' company. I wish I had taken more photos. We heard the beginning rumblings about a virus, but we were not unduly concerned. 

Then we talked to our son who had traveled to a convention in Atlanta that was cut short amidst all kinds of restrictions on what you could touch and how you could move about. 

Upon our return to Maine Sunday evening we heard from our daughter that warnings about the virus had reached our state and advisories were being issued about how to stay safe.

And staying home was at the top of the list. So that Monday we hunkered down. I wrote on the calendar, "How long?" with not a clue of what was ahead.

That was March 9, 2020. 

Almost a year to the day on March 10, 2021, I got my first shot of the Moderna vaccine. I was a bit nervous. My stomach flip-flopped all morning, and I was glad I had the good sense to sip ginger ale on my hour-long drive to Portland for the appointment. It took persistence over three days to get a slot, one location for me and another for Ken the next day, so I was sure to get there on time and fully prepared. Start to finish it took 20 minutes. It couldn't have gone more smoothly, and I couldn't have been more grateful or relieved.

My sons and daughters-in-law have pre-registered for vaccinations in Massachusetts and await calls to set up appointments. My grandson will finish first grade remotely. My hope is that we will all have a chance to get together in June.

Not much has changed day to day over the past year, yet little is the same. Life feels different, and I wonder if I have a clue about what comes next.  

With one shot in the arm and a second scheduled for early April, I feel optimistic for the first time in a long time. Like the time change this weekend, I am ready to spring ahead.