friday the 13th

Friday the 13th, March 2020. An emergency staff meeting that morning where we finalized plans for how our office would be handling this new Covid-19 situation. Starting the next week, our building would be on a hard lockdown and my colleague and I would begin alternating weeks in the office to minimize exposure risk. During the week one was in the office, the other would be working from home. We didn't see each other in person again until June 2021.

They sent us home at noon that day. As I walked to the bus stop, things appeared mostly normal. It was a nice spring day, and people were in the Square, buskers were playing on the street corners, office workers were at lunch at all the restaurants I passed. The night before, Oregon and Washington had announced school would be closed for the next few weeks. The night before that, the NBA had cancelled its season. The night before that, the WHO declared a pandemic. The four blocks to the bus stop was the most surreal I've ever felt.

On the bus ride home, I remember thinking very clearly, "This is the last time the world will be normal. We will never be the same after today." I listened to "September" by Earth, Wind, & Fire on repeat. I don't know why, but it had become my comfort song in the weeks I'd been making preparations, feeling like I was maybe going crazy because hardly anyone seemed to be as worried as I was about this new virus in the news. Until suddenly they were, and I didn't feel crazy anymore. I felt calm.

It seemed fitting that it was Friday the 13th.

I was working on this piece that whole week. I can see in it how I was talking myself through things. Countering fear with hope, worry with encouragement. Leaning into bright colors and playful images to remind myself about resilience and the power of joy.

And now it's another Friday the 13th in March. The world isn't normal.

I feel crazy. I don't feel calm.

I'm still talking myself through things. I still believe in resilience and the power of joy.