Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

People told me to start writing to you earlier. “You’ll want to remember these times,” they said. “You can keep track of all that happens, capturing a you that’s never been seen before.” One historian made a great case for journaling during a pandemic, and my son’s history teacher sent emails saying, “You are a part of living history. Be aware!”

I countered (basically to myself, mumbled under my breath) with: “Every day is and has been a part of living history,” and “I have too much to do already.”

So here we are, over five weeks since our governor effectively shut down the state, and I haven’t regretted not speaking to you, Diary. I’m fine knowing that you know nothing of our meals during these last five weeks (homemade, nourishing food, just like always) or how I’ve spend the majority of my time (editing or reading, just like always). It’s okay that I didn’t report how the kids and pets are adjusting (pretty well and great, respectively). And you really don’t need to know what we’ve been doing for fun (screen time) and that we’ve failed on many of our plans (learning ASL, Spanish, deep cleaning the house).

Our lives, in truth, would bore you. They bore me just thinking of them.

But the one thing I’d like to get down for the sake of history is how grateful I am. Grateful that Tim is still employed. Grateful that we’re healthy overall. Grateful to have savings in the bank and accessible teachers. Grateful that we moved my parents down the street from me. Grateful for the sheer amount of electronics we have in our home that allow us to go about our days as if we are choosing to stay in. Grateful for a governor and state medical director who take a threat seriously when our federal leadership is in disarray.

We’re lucky. I realize this. And I guess part of my reasoning for not wanting to write, Diary, is that I feel bad just how lucky we are.

So instead of journaling each day here at the table, I’ll continue doing what we’re doing, part of which is trying to make a difference from within our house. Shopping for those who need food; donating money to those organizations with the people power to change lives; serving as a role model to my four kids, who hopefully go on to show as much compassion and empathy the next time a pandemic emerges.

Until next time (or not),


Picture of woman journaling by picjumbo_com at

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