When August began, we started to feel almost normal. I might be stretching things here, but we had created a life that was manageable given restrictions and our personal needs. My daughter was playing hockey and golfing. My son was dancing at his studio. I did not plan to venture back to a gym, and I continued to work from home.
In early August, we were starting to feel pandemic weary. “Maybe it isn’t that bad”. “I am only doing things allowed by my local community”. “I wear a mask”. These are the things we were telling ourselves as we were out and about more in public places. The local positivity rates were low. The kids were set to go back to school on a hybrid model. It was all imperfect, but it felt like progress.
We took a free weekend to head into the city to see my parents. The weather was perfect. There were people out and about. Downtown Chicago was remarkably more quiet than summers of past, but it felt like it was emerging from a long winter. Our summer had arrived, just a bit late.
