Lately, the typical hotspots we love aren’t so… hot. In fact, Greenwich Avenue and SoHo, typically bustling during spring, are downright deserted. Adding to this air of depressing quiet are storefronts that are actually boarded up in what appears more like hurricane preparedness than pandemic protocol. (That’s you, Sephora, West Elm, Valentino, etc, etc.)
When Governor Ned Lamont announced this week that Connecticut schools would remain closed through June, I wasn’t surprised. I did, though, feel a bit deflated. It has been a long road, and another six weeks felt like too much. Like an extended jail sentence. Like the groundhog seeing his shadow after winter had already cancelled all of the fun during a brutal winter.
Mothering is already hard. Mothering during a pandemic is other level. I have been admiring the myriad ways my fellow mothers are handling their stuff during Covid-19. There is a strength and determination in our day-to-day struggle that solidifies, yet again, we can handle anything. We’re in this together.
