What I Hope They'll Remember

My three-year-old son spent the morning setting up his little people, socially distanced. Since our family of four has been together close to non-stop for the past 2 weeks (yay, more family time!), I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on what memories might linger into their later childhood, or even adulthood.

Over the break, we cautiously visited some playgrounds that were closed, then opened, and now held in playground purgatory, where the future is painfully unclear. My daughter (who’s been in virtual first grade for the duration) noticed a fellow classmate near the swings. It took them a while to fully recognize each other with their masks on, but the urge to connect was palpable. They craved an embrace but settled on gleeful exchanges of their ages (both 6) and their teacher’s name.

I’m in the business of creative thinking but will be the first to admit I haven’t consistently been my creative best these past 10 months. I still catch myself doomscrolling or searching for answers online (bad idea) about when life might look more like it used to (it probably won’t). The exponential rise in local COVID numbers has me on edge. Stories of personal loss in my social feeds feel overwhelming.

But what will my little ones take with them from this time? My daughter is old enough to remember her Zoom ballet classes, but will my son recall the time he followed every disappointment with “because of the virus” regardless of its relevance? “No, you can’t have a third cookie.” “Because of the virus,” he suspected.

Will they hold this time as simpler, when we didn’t rush around to activities and cooked all of our meals at home, cuddling up for movie nights on the couch? Will they remember how our neighborhood walks became like a palm print’s familiar pattern: first passing the house with the leafy tree filled with noisy birds, next waving to the old woman puttering in her garden, then admiring our neighbor’s newly finished treehouse… small pieces of predictability in our lives.  

If there’s one thing they remember from this time, I hope it’s how the sweet and easy luxury of being together deserves appreciation. Their great-aunt, a newly vaccinated doctor, has extended the promise of mask-less visits with them soon. They ask about it like anticipating Christmas morning, a gift to simply see each other smile in person. It’s something I won’t take for granted.

But maybe all of these memories are destined to fade. Perhaps we’ll renew our busy routines and scheduled activities, casually enjoying a night out in a restaurant and watching our kids’ indoor performances. Maybe I won’t treasure my coveted 30 minutes of alone time, but instead come to miss their ever-present squeals, half from sibling conflict and half eruptions of giggles.  

What might their generation be called… Generation Pandemic? The Touchless Generation? I hope they end up teaching all of us what connection and unity can be, and they tell their children how we came together to heal the planet – and each other. I hope they remember.