The pandemic is a complicated equation with many variables.
Social gatherings of 25 are allowed where we live. Still, caution abounds.
On Saturday, I dropped some things off at our youngest daughter's house. Her little girls were outside chalking the sidewalk and running circles in the grass. Their "baby" is our youngest grand. She turned 2 last month. We had wished her happy birthday through a plate glass door.
She's talking up a storm these days, saying words like quarantine, "pandemica," and corona.
The toddler and momma invited me to walk with them. So we walked. Apart. She's so young, I've often wondered what she remembers about us. Then she took her momma's hand. I saw it but pretended that I didn't.
Her momma said, "We're not against holding hands, Grandma."
As if on cue, that chubby, silky soft hand reached for mine. It was a mix of emotions, joy for the moment and sorrow for the many losses that have swept the world.
Of course, when our walk was over, we all resumed obsessive-compulsive hand washing.
But for a moment, I held the promise of better days to come. Slowly, but surely, they will.
(Lori Borgman is a columnist, author and speaker. Her new book, "What Happens at Grandma's Stays at Grandma's" is now available. Email her at email@example.com.)
(c)2020 Lori Borgman
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