Chalkboard Wisdom in the Age of the Virus

I have a chalkboard in my kitchen where I post a countdown to something exciting that is happening. This is generally a celebration or a vacation. In the fall of 2019, I excitedly began the countdown for a trip to explore the islands of Portugal. This was a dream trip — perhaps the last family trip with all four of us for a while. I looked forward to escaping into nature in off-road vehicles,climbing to dizzying heights by day, with magical views, and then drinking in the sounds, sights — and the wine — of the bustling waterfront by night. A trip worthy of the count down. “50 days to Portugal” I wrote in bright yellow chalk. I erased and rewrote numbers each day. And I waited, like so many other times in life. Excitedly. Impatiently. Dreaming.

The chalkboard made the waiting tangible. And, what I wrote on that chalkboard always happened. I had absolute certainty that those moments would come to be.

And then 2020 came.

After we returned from vacation, oddly, uncharacteristically, I could not bring myself to commit anything in writing onto the chalkboard. It remained blank. Now, if you live at 44 Kingsbrook Way, you would know this is strange. I am always waiting. I am always anticipating. I am a planner.

2020 was no regular year in the Looney household. Both of my children became seniors in the 2019–2020 school year — one in college and one in high school. There was absolutely no shortage of things that I was waiting for. Spring break. Prom. Outdoor track season. Awards nights. Senior week ceremonies. Last day of classes. Graduation. I looked at that chalkboard every day. I struggled with all of the competing things I was waiting for, unsure which would win out and prove to be “chalkboard-worthy.” None of them made the board. Perhaps, I should have known this to be an omen of what was to come.

And then COVID-19 hit. One thing after the other was cancelled. Life as I knew it shut down. Suddenly. Abruptly. Halted. On hold.

And the waiting stopped being fun. It shifted from an excited feeling of anticipation, to boredom, fear and anxiety. Waiting to know if my daughter would go back to college or my son to high school. Waiting for Amazon to deliver some toilet paper. Waiting for the mail to “de-germ” before I dared to touch it. Waiting to see how long my husband would be out of work. Or to know if my business would survive. Waiting to see if that cough was allergies or the virus. Waiting to see if my friend would come off the ventilator. Waiting to see if my neighbor in the nursing home would be next to die. Waiting. Always waiting these days.

The weight of this waiting is crushing.

I have been carrying it around like a sack of rocks determined to keep me sheltered and afraid. I am tired and weary. The uncertainty of the wait has felt insurmountable. And it has robbed me of the joy that might be found in the moments of staying still. And I am done. DONE.

If there is a life lesson for me, and I am certain that this virus has many lessons in store for me, this is one of the hardest. And it is swirling in my mind in a mix of emotions and confusion, as I try to put words to it, thinking of that damn blank chalkboard.

I can no longer hold onto waiting as a way of being.

Because nothing is certain, actually. It never was. And it was only a matter of time before that chalkboard proved me wrong, after years of lulling me into security with countdowns, knowing I was never actually guaranteed that perfect plan. That exciting trip. Those celebrational life moments.

The only thing that is certain is the blank chalkboard that still sits on my kitchen wall.

Each day is a gift. A blank slate. An opportunity. A moment in time to be experienced to its fullest.

I will never again take things for granted. The virus has obliterated my illusion of control.

It is time that I stop waiting. And live. And smile again.

Love and peace to all.

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