Rob and I moved to Denver from California in 2004. For over sixteen years I have known the time difference between Pacific Standard Time and Mountain Time - one hour. That's not a hard number to remember. On Wednesday, however, this pedestrian fact slipped my mind and I was convinced that my 3:00pm (PST) Zoom call would take place at 5pm my time. As I headed out the door for my afternoon walk around 4:00, my subconscious mind broke through the mental fog with a frenzied flag-waving: "Check the time! The call is now, you dummy!" So I raced to the computer to Google "What time is it in California?"
A new low, my friends. Not only did I have to Google the present time, but I narrowly escaped missing the family Zoom call. I abandoned the walk, slipped behind my desk, and pretended I was on top of things. (I didn't fool anyone, partly because I confessed within the first five minutes). Has my mind gone on spring break with the boys? Blame it on spring break, spring forward, or on the year anniversary of COVID life. The newly extended daylight strikes me like a slap in the face, as I stagger around every evening bleary-eyed, wishing it was dark so I could just go to bed.
I'm tired of making decisions about the health and well-being of my family every hour of every day. This re-entry period when vaccines provide hope is almost more difficult - mentally - than extreme lockdown. We let our youngest go on a small mission trip to southwestern Colorado with church this week, despite some fear of his contracting the virus en route. Last summer we pulled him from both his mission trips, but I couldn't cancel again. He was excited to go, and we needed a break from him sitting at the computer, phone, or video game console at all hours.
Next week our older son heads to a swim meet in Phoenix. All of his big meets since February 2020 have been canceled, and this may be the only chance he has to race at sea level, for... well, ever. Despite lingering fears of infection, we said yes to that trip, too We're tired of saying no. I don't know if we're right or wrong, but we had to make a decision (yet again) and this one seemed like a no-brainer. Which is a good thing, since that term accurately describes me at our present moment.
We're all hanging in there, clinging to hope yet concerned about letting go too fast, too soon. Something about the emotional fatigue, the decision overload, has temporarily short-circuited my brain and required a great deal more coffee. At least it's Friday, and I've almost adjusted to the time change. When I can't blame spring break or spring forward any longer, I'll just have to fire up those neurons and force my brain to work once more.
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