Dear boys,
One Saturday morning in early March, we were walking back from the movie theatre (which has since closed) after seeing Pixar’s newest release, Onward. A title, which, if you think about it, was a tad prophetic. Inspired by such a bright day, we stopped to take photos in front of a mural on the way to our favorite crêperie. Turning the corner we passed by Jermaine, your movement teacher at MCS, sharing friendly exchanges about how beautiful it was outside and your quick review of the movie. Everyone’s spirits seemed lifted by the promise of warmer weather. Little did we know everything would change in just a matter of days, that these would be the last photos we’d take before our hometown became the hot zone of a global pandemic.
It’s now been almost six weeks since Governor Cuomo closed all schools, non-essential businesses, and commanded New Yorkers distance themselves by at least six feet. The “Shelter at Home” order coincided with your spring break, so teachers not yet knowing the magnitude of this, sent home enough work for you to do should schools remain closed an extra week. At first our isolation was strangely appealing, cozy in a way, like a fun slumber party. One reporter referred to it as the “honeymoon phase” fueled primarily by adrenaline. But things quickly shifted, first daily then almost hourly as we ticked our way to the epicenter of a worldwide health crisis. More than ever we had to embrace the “New York Tough” mentality — even more than 9/11, which you guys weren’t around for, but which was devastating to our city — as the stream of cancellations to our lives flooded in. Fears, hopes, anxieties, disappointments, and frustrations rose to the surface, drowning us in grief often times unexpectedly and with great fervor.
Those first two weeks we did our best to create some semblance of routine. Missing our grandparents we wrote them letters and created homemade postcards; we FaceTimed our friends and taught Pow Pow how to Zoom so we could see him and Grandma in person, virtually. After our first Zoom chat with them, I fell to the floor in a heap of tears. I worry about them, wondering when we will be allowed to see them which makes me sad. It’s no surprise there’s been A LOT of tears, from everyone, over things that wouldn’t normally matter if it weren’t such a stressful, uncertain time. Processing the many feelings and doing our best to be patient in our very confined space is a daily battle. You boys are missing school, your peers, trips to the farm and visits with family. I long to see Grandma and Pow Pow, miss my friends, my routine and the pulse of city life. And most tragically, Daddy is mourning several friends who have passed away as a result of Covid-19, unable to properly honor their lives lived, while each day he travels to work in this grim climate. Riding the subway standing up the entire time, even when train cars are empty, and going through a full contamination process when he returns back home.
Now referred to as the Covid Capital of the world, New York City is reeling, grieving, and eerily calm except for the constant sound of ambulance sirens. There is a frightening desolation in the streets, with far too many dreary days that don’t do much for the mood of Gotham. Even our car was broken into by someone desperate for money as crime has risen — a result of much of our police force out sick with the coronavirus. There are long lines snaking outside the grocery stores, panic about when supplies will be restocked, aggressive pleas from the homeless, and a tense chill everywhere — even my own — that is difficult to shield from you. And that’s just what is happening outside. That doesn’t include the fissures in our emotional health as we routinely get on each other’s nerves with no real place to escape one another. But somehow, despite all this, we manage as a family, to wake up each day and find the blessings.
We try to do as much cathartic movement as we have space for: Taekwondo forms in the living room, boxing drills in the office and “Just Dance” parties on the Wii. Early on we’d scooter to the playground wearing latex gloves, with me constantly reminding you not to touch your face. Then as playgrounds citywide closed because of overcrowding, we started running sprints on the track at Riverbank; scootering in dizzying circles around a shuttered carousel while donning masks now mandated by the Governor. Each day brought new restrictions and new protocol for PPE amidst this war zone.
People are desperate in this city; they are hungry and hopeless. They are losing their jobs and loved ones to this virus. It’s because of all this that I hug you even more. The first thing we do when we wake up is give each other hugs, throughout the day saying, “There’s only three people we can do this with right now!”
Never has there been a time I’ve been more grateful you have each other. I can only imagine what this must be like for an only child. During these weeks, we have formed a deeper connection and though feelings still turn on a dime at any moment, we manage to find silver linings of joy. Like virtual “Happy Hours”, going on a simple car ride from one borough to the next and saying hello to friends from the bottom of their stoop; or making homemade posters to thank those who deliver our groceries and the city-wide clapping outside the window at 7:00 p.m. for essential workers. There isn’t a night, by the way, I’m not brought to tears by that sound.
Chess matches and a daily Metroblast gaming session with Daddy have become highlights to your days. Now that remote learning has started — while it’s a lot of coordination coupled with uncertainty about what school will look like in the months ahead — it does fill the time.
You guys have even mentioned how you kind of like this “new normal”. Cash in particular said, “I don’t know Mom, I mean there’s a lot of bad things happening all around us, with the virus, but I kind of like being with my family all the time.” And notwithstanding the upheaval, you’d never want to live anywhere else.
Grey’s teacher Anna wisely wrote at the beginning of all this, when talking to parents about homeschooling:
“If we can leave you with one thing, it is this: at the end of all of this, your child’s mental health will be more important than their academic skills. And how they felt during this time will stay with them long after the memory of what they did during these weeks is long gone. So keep that in mind every single day.”
And she’s right. You won’t look back and remember how many assignments you completed or whether you stayed on track for school. You’ll look back and remember how you felt, how you were loved by your family during a pandemic and the time you spent with them. I know I could not be more grateful to have a family to shelter with and hug each and every day. And cry with when things are just too much.
So, because it’s no secret my feelings for Governor Cuomo — “Shhhh! I’m listening to Cuomo!” — I’m going to close this letter with a favorite quote from one of his briefings:
“We're going to get through this because we are New York and because we are New York tough. That's why I love New York ... And at the end of the day, my friends, even if it is a long day, and this is a long day, love wins. Always. And it will win again.”
Always AND forever.
I love you boys,
Mom