300 Days of Sunshine

I found a twist tie in my desk drawer the other day and I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.  Why , you ask, would a twist tie trigger this reaction?   Allow me to provide some context.  In the beginning of the pandemic our screening process for entering work was to get a temperature check and receive our color-coded twist tie for the day to proudly display on our badge, showing we were safe and screened for COVID-19 with the best technology known at the time.  Every day was a new twist tie, and hence we collected dozens (maybe hundreds) before technology evolved and vaccines ensured a new level of safety.  The twist tie was symbolic on so many levels.  It gave us permission to enter the sacred territory of front-line healthcare when many friends were working remotely from home.  It was an emblem representing the family we belonged to for that moment in time when taking care of people with COVID was everything.  It was frivolous (and ridiculous, now that I think about it), but i

Grace Bay Beach When we started growing our family, we always said that we would be the family that traveled with kids.  We would be the kind of parents who incorporated our children into all the things we loved to do, rather than putting our lives on hold to have kids.  We would courageously brave early flights, disrupted nap schedules, and time zone transitions without hesitation.   We agreed that we valued introducing our kids to worldly experiences, different foods and cultures, and teaching them about the awe and wonder of the world.   Ady traveled to about 8 different states before age one (including an upgrade to first class) and used her passport when she was still small enough to travel as a lap infant.  She was the tiniest aficionado when it came to the routine of planes, trains, Uber rides, and even a cruise ship.  Then Meredith was born and the pandemic hit, and along with all of our other great ambitions and plans for our family of four, travel was on hold indefinitely.