BY MICHELE MILLER
The writing was on the wall weeks ago, but I held out hope.
Then, with the sad click of a mouse, the summer road trip to Michigan was cancelled and all those hotel points I’d been proud to be using were funneled back into my Marriott account.
Silver lining, I guess, for the “gold” member who is basically on a trip to nowhere from here on out.
Chalk another one up to the coronavirus.
We’ll get there, though, eventually. And it will be even better next time around, right?
Clinging to better thoughts has been the mantra since March, when the pandemic reared its ugly head, and we started crossing family and friendly gatherings off the calendar.
It was to be a busy year with a younger generation of cousins walking down the aisle and bonus side trips to see loved ones.
Three family weddings in two northern states have gone out the window in 2020, along with a handful of landmark birthday celebrations.
Turning 25 and 30 is a bit of a deal when you’re still young and big on counting birthdays.
I remember.
Sadly, the unexpected funerals of a beloved aunt and a former colleague who passed away due to COVID-19 have also been delayed, pausing the traditional life celebrations that honor an earthly existence and are meant to bring closure to those that grieve.
My 93-year-old dad is in failing health and isolated at home with his wife in Massachusetts. His three daughters live in southern hot spots, so we’re left to tethering whatever comfort we can through telephone conversations that are sometimes left unfinished as he drifts into a weary slumber mid-sentence.
This is hard.
We’re not alone, I know, as neighborhood drive-by parades become the standard for birthdays, retirements, graduations, anniversaries. A way to make the best of things.
Our road trip to the Mitten State was to be just that. A silver lining, “drive-to” celebration for the middle kid and her long-time beau after they postponed their wedding until the summer of 2021.
This would be a pandemic adventure of sorts. We’d hit the road in our silver SUV; the old man and me, toting a YETI cooler full of provisions and enough sanitizer, alcohol wipes and disposable masks to weather a four day stay that would be spent mostly in the middle kid’s back yard.
We could soften the sting. Hoist glasses to the would-be nuptials and a finger to the pandemic, celebrating in the way that sturdy and resourceful people sometimes do.
A social distance Irish wake, of sorts, to yet another fallen occasion.
Make lemonade. Wine coolers. Moscow mules.
Know when to quit.
It wouldn’t be prudent to travel right now, what with the numbers here in the Sunshine State looking like New York’s a few months back. I don’t know if out-of-staters would take kindly to seeing our Florida plates headed up the interstate, even if we’ve been social distancing from most of the world since March. There might even be check-points.
I don’t know when I will dine at a restaurant or take in a concert again. I don’t know when we will do a lot of things we used to do.
Right now adapting to the COVID-19 new-world order means forming a small pod of like-minded, “safe” people to hang with. Backyard picnics for a party of no more than six. Outdoor dinners where you bring your own food, drink and chair and keep a safe distance on the patio.
We can’t help but think about tomorrow, but finding joy in the day and what we have now is how we get there; in the gifted back porch hammock that provides a comfy place to read, nap or talk to loved ones on the phone. In the promising harvest of sweet potato vines planted in May that are crawling through the summer garden.
And in the occasional day-ventures to local parks where the open air, nature’s lush, green canopy, and a lone, yellowed leaf floating aimlessly along the salty shore offers a kind comfort. A way to be.
Now onward.
Contact Michele Miller at mmiller@whatswhatnewportrichey.com
