Looking back at this year, Covid to me feels like a story of perseverance — a reminder of my (and our collective) ability to survive periods of difficulty.

When the year kicked off, I was in month two of dealing with a GI issue that popped up out of nowhere. Shortly after, I moved to a new city and had an uncomfortable period of loneliness. Then mid-March came, and suddenly it was Covid.

My parents, who had been in the process of selling our family restaurant of 30 years (unrelated to Covid), were forced to lay off all but one of their employees, and run it entirely on their own as a takeout spot. This at a time when they were already physically and emotionally exhausted from several difficult years that led up to it.

It was devastating to them. A scary, confusing time.

I ended up spending the next 2 months at home so I could be there. My job was already remote, so I worked from home, and hung around for cooking meals and providing emotional support.

But in that moment I needed them as much as they needed me. The thought of going back to the new condo in the new city with no one there, no social settings to go out in, worrying about the virus and sitting at home consumed by thoughts of my blossoming chronic health issue — frankly, sounded terrible.

I was happy to be home during that time. But the next 2 months were incredibly difficult. With the sale of the restaurant having been delayed due to Covid — it felt like my family was on their last legs. The candle just completely burnt.

Meanwhile, my dad’s sore back had officially become a bulging disc, and he needed surgery. So the trip him and my mom had planned to take as a vacation after the sale was out the window.

Instead, it was back surgery and 3-6 months of rehab.

To compound things further, they were supposed to be moving their life’s possessions 4 hours north to their second home, where they were going to begin living full time.

It was all just hard and hard to swallow. It often, especially for my parents, felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel. And right now it still sometimes does.

This is all to say nothing of the smoke-filled air, the looming election, the increasingly hostile political climate, and my rising feeling of doubt that we’ll be able to garner the political will necessary to address climate change before it’s too late.

What Covid continues to remind me is that I’m (Read: we’re) more resilient than we may typically otherwise realize. It gives me a sense of confidence that I (we) can continue to navigate life, surviving hard situations, and getting through to lighter, better times.

It also reminds me of the good fortune that is having family.