Season’s greetings, fellow weary travelers. In this most unusual of times, it’s a comfort to sit with my coffee in the predawn light, per usual, reflecting on the year behind us and considering how to craft a narrative of 2020 from our family’s perspective. For reference, I look back at our 2019 letter and marvel at how it feels not from another year but from another dimension, an alternate universe stripped of words and phrases like “coronavirus,” “social distancing,” “pandemic,” “quarantine,” “now more than ever,” “stay home, stay safe,” and “out of an abundance of caution.” My heart feels heavy at the collective losses of 2020, and yet, now more than ever (ha!), filled with gratitude and appreciation for what remains.
By design and with the best of intentions, holiday letters carry a patina of optimism and cheer, accentuating the positive and mitigating the negative. I’m cautiously retaining that convention, but wish to note up front that for every bit of beauty and wonder we experienced in 2020, there was anxiety and uncertainty in equal measure. For every socially distanced family adventure, there was hand-wringing and mental calculations about its relative safety. Disclaimers aside, there is still much to be thankful for this year. Without the distraction of a busy social calendar, our family knocked several items off our Utah bucket list with visits to the Great Salt Lake, Bonneville Salt Flats, Kennecott Copper Mines, Zion National Park, Bear Lake, and Deer Creek Reservoir. We said 10,000 prayers of thanks that hiking is outdoors and socially distanced and made that the centerpiece of our spring, summer, and fall recreation.
Robert is finishing his second year at Snow, Christensen, and Martineau and was able to partially work from home and partially work from his office this year. I am continually amazed at his ability to stay focused and productive regardless of circumstance. One of Robert’s best qualities is that he is unflappable in an emergency, which I now know, thanks to 2020, extends to global pandemics, earthquakes, and hurricane force windstorms. When Salt Lake City was hit with 100 mph winds in September that knocked out power, WiFi, and heat, Robert sprang into action, stocking up on dry ice, keeping our food cold, percolating coffee, finding our lanterns and headlamps, keeping our devices charged with mobile charging stations, and checking on neighbors. They say you don’t really know someone until you’ve been in an emergency with them, and I thank my lucky stars daily that I get to share a foxhole with Robert.
Rebekah is simultaneously wildly grateful for 2020 and already trying to erase it from memory. Much of my year was dominated by trying to work from home with three kids, overseeing online schooling, and desperately seeking dependable and safe childcare. It was stressful, to say the least. And yet, in so many ways, this was the best year I’ve ever had with my kids. We spent untold amounts of time together, reading, hiking, playing board games, doing arts and crafts, baking, watching movies, and finding adventure in the mundane. Next to my family, I am most grateful for the trio of incredible women, Heidi, C-Game, and Jordy, who helped me bridge the childcare gap and managed to keep my kids happy and occupied while I Zoomed endlessly the next room over.
Like all teenagers, Aidan had to be resilient and flexible in 2020, and I could not be prouder of his ability to roll with the punches. After considering every option for fall semester, we enrolled Aidan at Judge Memorial Catholic High School for its small class sizes and hybrid in-person/online instruction. He had to get braces over the summer, but, behind his mask, it’s possible no one has noticed outside of our family. It’s fascinating to see Aidan and his friends adapt to COVID with online D&D, online gaming, Netflix Parties, and the like. My best times with Aidan this year have been on road trips singing Weird Al Yankovic, Hamilton, and Taylor Swift’s Folklore at the top of our lungs, and, gulp, taking him driving for the first time. His learner’s permit test is on December 22; thoughts and prayers for Robert and me are greatly appreciated.
Harper and Ashton usually get their own paragraphs, but that feels inappropriate in 2020 when they didn’t spend 10 seconds out of each other’s sight. Their relationship continues to warm my heart and provides astonishing clarity on how birth order shapes personality. Harper is Ashton’s best friend, protector, translator, and cheerleader. As he potty trained in the spring, moved from a crib to a bunk bed, started swimming, and hiked to the top of Ensign Peak on his own two feet, she was prouder and more encouraging than anyone. A preternatural chatterbox, she speaks for Ashton 90% of the time and is the only one who understands what he’s trying to say nearly 100% of the time. From Ashton’s perspective, Harper is the sun, the moon, and the stars. Yes, they fight, usually when Harper claims a toy unfairly as her own or, in her words, when Ashton isn’t listening to her, but discord is the exception rather than the rule, at least in this phase of life. In September, Harper and Ashton started together in the preschool room at the University of Utah’s BioKids, and I’m grateful that Ashton has his favorite person at his side for the start of his educational journey.
We wish you a warm, safe, and wonderful holiday season filled with love.
Robert, Rebekah, Aidan (15), Harper (5), Ashton (3), and Stan
No comments:
Post a Comment