Quarantine Confession
In December of 2019, social media was flooded with posts declaring that 2020 was destined to be great: the 4th of July and Halloween fell on a Saturday; Christmas, and Valentine’s Day on Fridays. Even Cinco de Mayo fell on a Taco Tuesday. Those posts were like the builders of the Titanic declaring their ship couldn’t be sunk. Covid was the iceberg that took us down. By St. Patrick’s Day, we were locked in our homes, scrambling to work remotely and isolated from friends and family.
I talked to many avid readers who said they found they couldn’t focus on reading during this time, and reverted to audiobooks, or only reread favorites (or relied strictly on Netflix for entertainment). Not me. Reading is my escape. I read more than the average person in any year, but in 2020 my reading reached new levels. According to goodreads, I read 99 books through quarantine. (If I’d paid closer attention, I would’ve squeezed another in to make an even 100).
Don’t get me wrong, I watched my share of Netflix and spent time on social media and texting friends. But, reading is still the ultimate form of entertainment for me. For the first time in my life, I could sit down with a book, knowing that I could read as long as I wanted because there was nowhere else to go.
While I am thrilled to get together with friends and family again, and hope we never go through another lockdown, a part of me will always feel a little nostalgic for that time.