Before the Bend

April 30, 2020

When I was 10, I realized that I could remember things that happened to me 6 years earlier, when I was 4, but no further back. I also realized that I could imagine what I'd be like at age 16, but no older. By the time I was 15, I could imagine myself at 25. And as time passed, the trend continued: As far as I could see behind me, I could imagine the same distance into the future. The older I got, the straighter the path seemed, which was great—I was tired of being a kid stumbling blindly into corners. Middle age is even better, because now I can plan as far ahead as I want to, with a level of clarity I never had before.

At least I could until just a couple of months ago. COVID-19 has forced the entire world onto a bendy path, and I haven't felt this helpless in decades. We can vaguely see a hazy corner up there, but not even the virologists and epidemiologists can see around it. We can't plan with any certainty, because we don't know what we'll find when we arrive. And, most maddening of all, there's nothing we ordinary people can do to get there faster. It's awful.

It's not awful for dogs, though. Our family's 1-year-old goldendoodle, Skye, tends to fling all 50 pounds of herself joyfully forward into her future without thinking about what might be around that bend ahead. I'm sure it's a lovely way to live if you're a dog, but it's sure inconvenient if you're the person who has to hold her leash on a walk and try to keep her at a manageable pace.

We humans need to feel successful at something in order to be happy, so right now, we all need short-term successes, ones we can execute in the temporary "new normal" we're learning to live in as we're sheltering in place. We need to narrow our scope to plan for things possible to achieve before the next bend in the road.

So I've decided that my COVID-19 goal this spring is to teach Skye to heel. It will give me a sense of accomplishing something new that will serve both of us well for the rest of her life, and the discipline, routine, and fresh air will do both of us good. And after all, just because we don't know WHEN we'll round that corner in the distance doesn't mean it's never, so it's good to be as prepared as possible. I really hope all that's waiting is a squirrel.