miriam beth

i was supposed to run a race today. a 10k. my first, ever. i've been training all year.

when they canceled the race they announced that they would not be refunding us the money, that they'd already spent it, but that they'd be happy to make arrangements for us to pick up our medals and our t-shirts (which, come to think of it, they have not done). what am i going to do with a medal for a race that i didn't actually run? i barely know what to do with the medal i earned from the race i did run.

sidenote: it was a color run. a 5k. the medal is a rainbow AND a unicorn. the medal is highly coveted by several of my children. to avoid conflict i have hidden it in the back of my underwear drawer. sarah has advised me to wear it daily. my plan: run enough races to have enough medals to distribute among the children so no one fights.

in two weeks ava and i were going to pack our really cool rolling carryons and get on a plane to new york with my parents. we were going to be there for five days. my dad gave ava a guidebook for christmas and she read it thoroughly and marked it up with post it notes. on sunday nights she'd bring it over for dinner and make plans with my dad. new york is more shut down than we are down here, and that's supposed to be pretty shut down. postponed.

two weeks after that there was going to be a massive womens conference for all the women in the area- agoura hills to san luis obispo. president jean bingham was going to come and speak and then we were all going to break into classes. I was supposed to be teaching one of those classes! my aunts and cousins were going to come. postponed.

at the end of may was going to be chainfest. jimmy eat world, saves the day, taking back Sunday, anberlin (and more!) all playing together. it was going to be an afternoon of excellent rock n roll, all of it from my cd collection as a teenager. i was going to wear flannel and doc martins and low rise jeans. there was going to copious amounts of second hand smoke and spilled beer and singing words that i've known by heart for half my life. postponed.

and what of 8th grade graduation? 5th grade culmination? my graduation for my associate degree? Sarah's massive kindergarten party? ava's third year of girls camp? gone. gone. gone. gone. gone.

the world has shut down. we are all settling down in our houses. the things that propelled us through the grind are disappearing, some never to materialize again. what new thing do we have to propel us? the fact that one day we may walk through a mall again? (to be honest, no thank you) we may gather in groups of ten or more (more compelling). how long can we be a nation of homebound, homeschooling, unemployed humans?

we were all in the car the other day and the kids were talking about going back to school (we've been told may 5th by our school, we've also been told not for the rest of this school year by several other sources. we'll see who wins). kate said, 'that's not for a whole month."

and i thought, "A WHOLE MONTH? can we really live like this for a whole month more??" and then i realized that of course we can (and we will for longer, no doubt). because we have no choice. there is nowhere for us to go, no other option. and then i made a list of the good things about staying home: we're going to spend more time together, which has been really fun. we're going to read more books and play more music and hike more trails and jump on the trampoline and paint more art until our hair has grown to our knees and they finally open the doors allow us to come out and live amongst each other again (first shop: our hairdresser brenda). we'll probably all be immunocompromised at that point and immediately get sick because we don't know what other people's germs look like anymore, but that's fine.

here's my conclusion: i have nothing to look forward to anymore except being able to leave this house and go see the people i love. that is enough. but i am still mourning the loss of all of those lost events.

when this is over am i going to celebrate by throwing a massive potluck? well, to be honest, probably not. am i going to hope that the people i love celebrate by throwing a massive potluck? absolutely. i will bring my best cheeseboard and perhaps a chocolate cake laced with espresso and then i will hug all of my friends and talk their ears off and laugh really hard.

and then we'll do the traveling and the teaching and the camping and the ceremonies and hear the live music. i cannot wait.