Back last March I decided that it would be interesting to chronicle the year in a Covid journal -- a little bit of writing, a little bit of art and painting. I ended up completing Volume I last month (who could imagine there might be a Volume II?) and thought I'd share a few pages.
I'll be the first to admit the art isn't pretty. The sketches are rough, the writing often slants left or right. But that wasn't the point. The point was to provide a record of life over the past year, to remember things. And maybe it will get passed down to the grands who will remember little of this time.
Our "year" began with a visit to Canada while Rick was headed to the trade show. I chronicled our dinner celebrating 24 years and the day we learned that things were considerably more serious than we had previously thought.
I wanted to remember what this was like -- the things we had to do, consider, think about. Things that were new to us.
There were the lifelines, like my computer....
....the daily tasks....
....time at the lake.
I wanted to remember how we were able to see friends for dinner -- separate food, tables set apart.
You couldn't forget the idiot students who started a super-spreader event in Michigan by heading to a bar on a summer evening.
Nor could I leave out current events, like the death of George Floyd...
...and the political situation...
How could I forget meltdown days?
My journal ran out of pages. If only Covid would run "out of pages," too.
Sharing with: Pink Saturday