Two years at home

I don’t often write about it here, but my day job involves a lot of writing surrounding the medical profession. Because of that, in early 2020–probably earlier than many people–my coworkers and I began wondering when our company would make the decision to send us home to work remotely. A few coworkers with chronic conditions got permission to go remote in early March, but the rest of us were left waiting.

At the time, I regularly worked from home on Fridays, so on Thursday, March 12, I packed up my bag as usual, said goodnight to my coworkers, and wondered if we’d see each other the following Monday. The next day, we got the email saying we would be allowed and encouraged to work from home starting the following week.

It’s a story that many of you can relate to. The vast majority of the country and even the world experienced the same life-altering experience all at the same time. Maybe you went home a week earlier or a week later, or maybe you were working on the frontlines, but I bet you can point to a date in 2020 and say “that’s when it changed.” It’s an odd feeling, having so much in common with so many people. Much like generations before us shared a language of the Great Depression, we’ll forever share a language of the pandemic.

Of course, each person’s pandemic story was also unique. It touched our lives to different degrees and in distinct ways depending on our geographic location, job type, socioeconomic standing, etc. For me, the pandemic coincided with us selling our condo finally. Because the pandemic resulted in a massive shortfall of properties and rentals on the market (turns out, no one wanted to move during lockdown…), we ended up moving into my in-laws’ house about one week before the initial lockdowns. We stayed until early July.

For some people, that situation may have been untenable, but I look back on much of that time with fondness. While I certainly wouldn’t wish a repeat of the pandemic on us, those early days held a lot more rest than I would have initially imagined and it was much needed. Taking a page out of Emily P. Freeman’s and Laura Tremaine’s books, I wanted to share a few snapshots of what my life looked like during those early days, how I marked the days when time has felt so wonky.

2020 was the year of baking…

(top to bottom, L to R) sourdough banana bread, caramelized pineapple upside down cake, GF chocolate chunk cookies, pretzel bagels, buttermilk biscuits

It was the year of new workspaces…

my outdoor work spot, Marcus holding Hans while working, Hans taking a turn at the desk.

It was the year of small celebrations…

(top to bottom, L to R) Marcus at our 5th anniversary dinner, our Christmas spread, Hans and the tree, caramel sauce for Marcus's birthday, my birthday spread.

It was the year of spending time outside as much as possible…

hiking, canoeing, gardening, walking.

And the year of a new home and settling in…

moving and settling into our new apartment, where we still live.

As we look back on two years since the original lockdowns, how have you marked the time? What memories have stayed with you, both for good and ill?