On February 28, the letters editor of the Los Angeles Times requested submissions summarizing readers’ thoughts on the past year of life during the coronavirus pandemic. I was inspired to condense the swirling chaos in my brain to 150 relatively coherent words.

 

The Times has published many readers’ letters. But not mine. So I decided to to publish it myself:

Early last March, my daughter and I went grocery shopping to stock up for the lockdown that was then just a rumor. I haven’t been inside a store since.

My husband and I miss our old life: friends, movies, museums, restaurants, travel. Most of all, we miss our four grandchildren, though they come by to sit on our fence and visit—from a distance.

We still take daily walks (uplifting), and keep up with the news (distressing, to say the least).

But life is on hold. To cope, I remind myself how lucky we are: a home, food, water, Internet, Netflix. Which means we’re better off than ninety-nine per cent of the rest of the people this world. And if further cheering up is necessary, I say to myself, “Well, at least we’re not in London during the Blitz!”

Now if only I could just hug my grandchildren…