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What the pandemic has done to me

Today is my one-year anniversary in quarantine.
One year ago today I taught my last in-person class at The University of Alabama, packed my laptop and some midterms and went home. I’ve left since then only to walk each day or pick up drive-up groceries. My 18-year-old daughter has been home with me.
Gone are the “Let’s have a quarantini!” sad, virtual happy-hour jokes of the early days of quarantine.
Like all of us I learned that my life didn’t stop just because the world slowed down. My daughter was diagnosed with autism, graduated from high school and started college. My longest relationship — with my cat Lolly — ended when she died. Another cat was diagnosed with epilepsy. My mom was in the hospital three times. I ended a relationship, which was heartbreaking. I tried pandemic dating. The list goes on.

I have learned so much this year. Despite my active imagination, my cats do not throw keg parties during the day when I leave the house to walk. They loaf around the house, blissfully ignorant of the hushed chaos outside.
The pandemic taught me to sit in the quiet. I previously hated that phrase. It’s so pretentious.