it doesn’t take much to make my mother roll her eyes.
if she is particularly put off, she may even sigh. there even may be some sucking of the teeth (she’s guyanese, after all). there are a number of ways to elicit this response, including — but certainly not limited to — not knowing what i am making for dinner sooner than an hour before mealtime, returning her phone call before i listen to the voicemail that she left, and mentioning my dislike for any type of food that once spent its time at the bottom of the ocean.
but since the pandemic darkened the world’s doorstep, there’s a whole new set of sigh-inducing, teeth-sucking-worthy things that challenge her — and me — on a daily basis.
from the constant debate around why she can’t hug her grandchildren, to her annoyance that we have not gathered around her (indoor) table for easter, thanksgiving, christmas, and easter again, not to mention countless birthdays, navigating covid-19 has felt like one big hamster wheel — never-ending and exhausting. but with ontario in the midst of reopening, and all of us double-vaxxed, i had eagerly been expecting a lull so i could jump off.
then this happened.
“let’s go for lunch,” my mom said.
perfectly reasonable, my brain whispered. after all, we have been cooped up for months — i barely remember what it’s like to have food just show up in front of me. it sounded divine, exciting, maybe even a little sneaky. that we could even entertain such an adventure was a sign that yes, things were looking up pandemic-wise, that there was light at the end of the tunnel — our time had come to dance it out and get back to our joie de vivre.