People really hate this year. I’ve had worse.
There is no mark greater for 2020 than the pandemic. It changed people’s lives, took people’s lives, exposed people’s priorities, tested our longevity and relationships. I challenge anyone to find me a person who didn’t do at least a little pandemic soul searching. Yes, it has moved all of us in for worse or for better, and we’ve either adapted or faltered, but most likely a combination of both.
Here’s my story of 2020, and perhaps a touch of what I’ve learned.
I started the year in Maui. I want to remember this, because I didn’t want to return to the islands after spending Christmas at home in Seattle with my family and friends. But I numbed myself and got on the plane, knowing that I would have to find a way to cope. I made two major resolutions: 1) to be happy and enjoy what I had, 2) be that happy person to everyone I encountered. I resolved to reclaim myself, which was missing ever since I had left home. It worked. From January on, I was happy in my new home. I had also made the decision that I wanted to move back to Seattle, and that the adventure would end with my knowing what it felt like to part ways with the people I care about the most. I learned that it hurts to be away from family and friends, for a person like me, more so than others. I learned that the pain doesn’t really go away, but new companions will emerge if I choose to be happy and share that joy with others.
February was a big month. I published my first hard copy book (I had published the electronic version earlier in December of 2019). When I held it in my hands for the first time, I felt like I imagine a parent might feel, but only a fraction. The pride that part of myself was now outside of myself, and that it will live on if I died tomorrow. That feels kinda good. Too bad I suck at marketing. I need a publicist. But I can’t afford one. Heck, I couldn’t even afford a copy editor or a typesetter, though I did enjoy going through all the necessary motions of publishing a book.
March was memorable, because Mario, Aims and Migs came to visit me in Maui as we were on the verge of the pandemic. They chose to travel while the choice existed, and thankfully, everyone turned out fine. Not only that, tourism only began to thin in the middle of their visit. We actually went on one of the last whale watching cruises before the island shut down. I was bummed that my parents couldn’t come, but I know God kept them home for a reason. Probably so they’d be around when I moved back.
While Mario, Aims and Migs were visiting, I received word that the boarding students would not be returning to the boarding house and that the program was essentially ending. This whole situation was a massively complicated ball of wax, particularly for my friends who were the boarding program directors, but the reality was that from March through May, because of COVID 19, I lived in a $1.4 million house across the street from the Pacific Ocean. I taught remotely for two hours a day, and the rest of the time, I did what I now believe is the new motto of my life: do well what needed to be done, and enjoy the residual. And holy shit, there was a lot of residual. I will, for the rest of my life, never forget biking on the empty streets of Lahaina, from Napili all the way to Ma’alaea; hiking Mahana and the Pali trails; wandering abandoned golf courses and eating fresh guava; going to the beach between classes…
*Note: I must have drifted off in a memory because this post ended here. Now, two years and four months later, I’m hitting the publish button.