Photography by Lori K. Tate
Yesterday, Margot and I drove to Concord to have lunch with her teacher. As a native, it’s always a treat to putter around Downtown Concord with its cute shops, restaurants and personal history. Looking in the current storefronts, I remember what used to fill those windows when I was a little girl. There was Robinson’s, mom’s favorite boutique. It’s now a fancy coffee shop. Kester Three, where I used to buy the nicest stickers as a little girl, is now a mercantile, and the five and dime where my mother worked when she first met my dad is now the Cabarrus Creamery, home of the best ice cream in the world when it’s open — and that’s where the sting begins.
The creamery hasn’t been open since the pandemic began. I don’t know anything about when it might open. I just know that all of the young and old folks who usually sit on its benches during the summertime devouring lemon ice cream and peanut butter shakes aren’t there. And those empty benches are just another reminder of what’s been lost to the coronavirus.
Regardless, Margot and I were determined to have fun, and that we did. As she showed her Bare Book (big writing project) to Mrs. Greene, I was the proudest mom in the world — and the saddest. These two have such a special connection, and though they were able to maintain it as we dove into crisis learning this past spring, it’s still not the same as being together every day.
Like millions of parents across the world, we’re trying to figure out what school is going to look like this fall. Yesterday, we got an e-mail explaining our present options, but if there are any guarantees with COVID-19, it’s that things will change. (It’s no coincidence that “pivot” is the hot word right now.) Our children’s school is doing a fantastic job of making some incredibly hard decisions, but my heart still breaks for all of the changes that must be made to keep us safe.
The other day I flipped through my planner to the week leading up to the shut down. A week before school closed, John took the day off so we could have a date breakfast before going to The Tots’ play at school. The following Sunday, Margot and I ventured to Charlotte for a Girl Scout celebration of the women’s suffrage movement. On Tuesday, my soul sister and I went to parent advisory at our high school, and the next night, The Tots and I went to Wednesday night dinner at church, where we talked with friends about the chili they were going to make for the upcoming chili cook-off that never happened.
After 16 weeks of COVID-19, I can’t imagine doing any of these things. Sometimes it hurts when I do. None of us knew the severity of what was coming, and we surely didn’t know that this pandemic would be laced with a social justice revolution.
During the past couple of months, I’ve seen and heard things that fill me with such sadness and anguish. People I had tremendous respect for have shocked me with their bias and beliefs, and common sense seems to be optional for folks these days. It’s so easy to let it get to me, but what does that accomplish? Not a damn thing.
So as I struggle to digest our country right now, I look to my children because at this point, they really are the smartest people in the room. Margot took extra care to wear a special outfit for Mrs. Greene yesterday, which prompted me to wash my hair and wear a dress (gasp!) to lunch.
After lunch, Margot and I walked through downtown to a couple of shops. She held my hand as we crossed Union Street, and just like that I was with my mother running errands. The circle that I believe in so much struck my heart like lightning, and it felt so good to be happy and present. It was a much-needed reminder that though the downtown shops have changed, along with our world, some things haven’t. Things like a mother and daughter making an adventure out of a summer afternoon, hand in hand.