Eight weeks and one day ago, I replaced my Brita water filter – then the world went crazy and I didn’t even see it coming.
I’m a creature of habit and routine which means every two months, I religiously change that filter. I crack open a fresh one and hold it under a gentle water spray for 15 seconds before slotting it into my Brita pitcher. Voila – fresh drinking water for another eight weeks.
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And every eight weeks, as I hold that filter under running water, I think about the last time I did that. And what changes have occurred since that last time. How the weather has warmed (or cooled), the birthdays that have passed, the events that have come and gone.
After that filter is snug as a bug, I manually roll the date digits on top of the pitcher to two months ahead – so I know when next it will need to be replaced. That future date always seems so far away. What will happen over these next eight weeks – what do I have to look forward to with anticipation or dread as the case may be? What will my life be like the next time I need to root around in my tall cupboard for a sealed filter?
February 7th was the last replacement date. And as I rolled those digits over to April 7th – which was a lifetime away; nothing more than a distant speck on the future’s horizon – I thought about the upcoming birthdays threatening to overwhelm me. Two kids with birthdays two weeks apart. February is always a hectic month for us – for that very reason. One weekend it’s Walt’s party, the next weekend it’s a family party and the following weekend it’s Millie’s party.
April 7th was a magical date because it meant the month of birthdays would be over. I could forget about cake and food and invites and candles and presents and lootbags for another five months.
April 7th would be an amazing day. The weather would be warmer and hockey would be finished and Killing Eve’s latest season would soon be starting.
But Brita played a cruel joke on me this time around. And for some reason I didn’t get the blissful April 7th it had led me to believe was mine for the taking.
On February 7th, had anyone told me that my plans for graduation dress shopping would be brought to a screeching halt and school would be at an operational stand still and visiting the grocery store would be akin to traversing a minefield; that taking walks outside would become highly anticipated and social occurrences – for the entire family; that my husband would hijack half of my dining room table with computer monitors and paperwork and for some reason a bottle of hot sauce; that my daughter would be baking something on the daily; that I would suddenly realize how many insignificant, trivial errands and activities I took for granted – and miss them; that I would come to appreciate hearing certain voices in my ear through my phone – that I generally only heard in my mind through email or in person standing less than two meters away.
I would have laughed in their silly face.
Because I’m a slave to routine – tomorrow, I will open up the brand spanking new Brita filter. I’ve already rooted in the cupboard and found it and it’s currently lying on my counter so I don’t forget. I will run it under a gently spray for 15 seconds and think back to February 7th and how blissfully ignorant I was back then.
How blissfully ignorant we all were.
How I had looked forward to the birthday month coming to a close and thought about March Break with a bit of eagerness.
Then I’ll thumb the dial over to June 7th. The weather will be nicer by then – that’s a given; the winter coats will be washed and hung back in the basement; the hall cupboard will have been cleared of woolen hats and mitts and scarves and replaced by a few baseball caps and fishing hats; the winter bedding will be laundered and crisply folded (more likely crumpled into wrinkled balls) and shoved into the linen closet.
And what else will have happened by June 7th? Honestly, I haven’t a clue – none of us does.
But I’m hopeful it will be something good.
Tanya, an article that really rings true for me. February 7, a mere 8 weeks ago, I was away in Grand Cayman on my holiday with my parents and sisters, blissfully unaware what heartache lay ahead for me. It’s a reminder to appreciate each day as you never know when things will change…for the worse, or for June 7th, let’s hope for the better!
Tanya…this article moved me as I am sure it did others.You captured the feeling of uncertainty and hope in a touching portrayal of the consequences of this pandemic.