My three youngest kids and I just got back from visiting my Mom. Before our road trip, we got tested for Covid to ensure we would not be putting Abuelita at risk by virtue of our visit, and thank you Jesus, we were negative for both the presence of the virus or its antibodies. (Never let it be said that what type of insurance you have doesn’t impact access to quality health care.)
Our time in Boston was spent primarily indoors, with the exception of shopping for groceries and needed household/personal items. Masks were worn at all times, and despite not really doing much beyond celebrating my Mom’s birthday and hanging around the house, we really enjoyed our visit.
We got back to Maryland yesterday and almost immediately, I started to feel a tightness in my chest. It was like walking in the door triggered a feeling of unease that I couldn’t put my finger on; I didn’t have to wait long to figure out where it was coming from.
This morning, I realized that I have no sense of connection to living in Maryland. I have kept to myself most of the time in the last three years, mainly because I was dealing with an endless parade of fuckery and needed to conserve my energy to deal with that. However, the advent of Covid has really brought my and my children’s isolation to the forefront.
I am privileged to have a location-independent career/role, so what am I doing here? My school district is more than likely going to be offering online instruction, so staying here for my younger son’s schooling is basically irrelevant; same goes for my oldest son and youngest daughter’s college education.
The cost of living in Montgomery County is expensive AF, we have zero family in the whole state, and while I love my friends — a small but mighty group of excellent humans — they are all focused on living their lives and taking care of their families.
Self awareness prevents me from pretending I don’t know where this is all coming from, so I think the time has come to let go of this place.