It was March 15 of this year when I posted on Instagram a photo of a near empty BGC with the caption, “That moment when you realize that it’s actually happening. 2020 wth!” I was exhausted, and it was a bittersweet moment of defeat for me. I had to drop all routine and give up on every pre-existing plan throughout the year in order to live. This year was a matter of survival, mentally, financially, and physically.
One of the most comforting words I read was from Pope Francis. A month into the lockdown he said, “Tonight before falling asleep think about when we will return to the street. When we hug again, when all the shopping together will seem like a party. Let’s think about when the coffees will return to the bar, the small talk, the photos close to each other. We think about when it will be all a memory but normalcy will seem an unexpected and beautiful gift. We will love everything that has so far seemed futile to us. Every second will be precious. Swims at the sea, the sun until late, sunsets, toasts, laughter. We will go back to laughing together. Strength and courage. See you soon!”
Holding onto hope...holding onto that faithful day when all will be back to normal was something that kept most of us going. This was the year I had planned on pushing a lot of my pending dreams, particularly on travelling and making the most money I can in my life. Both of which was put on halt and took a detour.
