“You’re as young as you’ll ever be.”
I’ve heard that statement in many different ways. In real life, in TV shows, and in English, and in Spanish. It meant close to nothing to me, until now. Beyond all the other things the pandemic took from us (health, jobs, normalcy, family members), it also took time. It took away the structure and stability of time. The clock was ticking but not in the same way. The last three years have felt intertwined and overlapping. The stubborn hold on normalcy as we watched an event unfold that was anything but normal. Here we were trying to work from home, while bodies were piling up. Here we were trying to be productive, while we watched positive rates go up.
It felt like time stood still but, of course, it didn’t. We’re all 3 years older, regardless of how unsettled it might feel. How unfair it feels to have lost those years. How horrible it is to complain when so many people didn’t make it to the other side.
And as time does, it keeps ticking away. I’m the youngest I will ever be.