Meredith Ball
Over a week into social distancing and I am feeling the need to be alone. Having three children means that social distance equals family togetherness--a LOT of it. So, I go for a run. I go for a run in the rain with a hat pulled down over my face. I go for a run when the freeze comes back and I need extra layers. And also, I go for a run in the sunlight when it finally warms the air and the ground below.
On this day, the sunlight prevails. I head toward campus. Getting there, I see parents moving their children out of the dorms. It doesn’t seem like so long ago that my own parents did the same for me. Then, it was chaotic. People moving all around. Dads waiting in minivans for the spot closest to the door. Finally snagging a cart and throwing a bunch of junk into the bottom and a dirty carpet on top. But today, everything is subdued. Just a few families, and they all move quickly and efficiently. There is no socialization. There are few smiles. During move-in a few months back, nobody could have predicted that these students’ first-year of college would end like this--in March and from a distance of six feet away.
As I continue along my run, I see something that reminds me of the more recent past. Bulbs that were planted by groundskeepers who are now surely furloughed or unemployed are making their way toward sunlight. Soon, we will begin to see the beauty of spring as the daffodils and tulips bloom. Those daffodils and tulips should have been there for those college kids. They should have called them outside after a Wisconsin winter. They should have witnessed the parties, the flirting, the removing of layers that always occurs when the warmth returns to a college campus. Instead, the flowers will greet no one.
But, like always, the first blooms of spring give me hope. This year, things look different, but I know that this, like a season, will pass. The college experience will go back to what it was before. The furloughed or unemployed workers will return to their jobs. Next year, there will most likely be day drinking and frisbee and, hopefully, tulips and daffodils to bear witness to it all.
At the end of my run, I see my own children playing in the yard. And I know that this time--this virus--will change them, too. They might become a bit more afraid of germs. They won’t get to finish second grade or kindergarten. But, like the spring flowers, there is growth here. After this season of turmoil, we, too, will emerge from the soil, ready to reawaken and blossom.
Meredith Ball is a mom, teacher, and wife. She enjoys running, reading, and being with her family (but maybe not this much).