A Year In
A year ago yesterday, I boarded a plane for San Antonio to attend AWP (nonwriters: it’s a giant writing conference). Coronavirus fears were rapidly escalating by that point, but the conference hadn’t been cancelled, and I went. I flew on a plane, stood around in crowds, went out for dinner and drinks and readings. And then changed my flight to come home early because it was absolutely dystopian to be in San Antonio while the world was falling apart. The kids were still in school, but not for long; within two weeks, the schools had closed. I can’t lie: I was excited. I was happy to have the kids home, and it felt like summer had come early, with all the promise of long, free days. The plans I made! I made an Excel sheet of daily schedules; I set ambitious goals for the kids learning to type; I talked passionately about the importance of journaling during This Unprecedented Time; Andrew began reading Shakespeare sonnets out loud after dinner each night. We were all going to better ourse