Life Moves Fast (Apparently So Do I)
I bought a condo in the middle of a pandemic.
I didn’t think I’d be uttering those words in 2021, but somehow, three months into the new year, this is what’s happened.
I bought a condo in the middle of a pandemic.
I didn’t think I’d be uttering those words in 2021, but somehow, three months into the new year, this is what’s happened.
Lately I’ve been reminded of the Japanese art of Kintsugi: putting broken pieces back together with gold. It’s a metaphor that reminds us to embrace the flaws and imperfections – that in those cracks you can find something new. But lately, as I think about it, it’s reassuring to think our hearts can do that, too.
While reading Anxious People by Fredrik Backman, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the humanity that exists in all of us. Of the shared happiness and fears and anxiety and joys that come with connection.
I didn’t expect that in five days my family’s world would be completely shaken. That we would have to navigate grief in a pandemic, where the air already feels so saturated with a similar sadness.
From running to the ER from my apartment one morning where I couldn’t stop crying to the nurses on duty; to waking up at 2 am in the Dominican where I crawled into my parents’ hotel room so I could feel some comfort as I curled up against my mother; to crying many nights to whichever of my Facebook friends or cousins was online in the dead of night, I have faced my fair share of paralyzing fear. Some nights I wake up thinking I can’t breathe. And most nights I can’t help but ask: why now and why me?
Sometimes, by the time you turn 25, you’ll remember the strong smell of hand sanitizer, the texture of the surgical mask against your nose as you try so hard to fight back the tears and gasps.