Jeanne and I were six months into a three-year around-the-world journey when we were both struck down by a mysterious illness. Self-quarantining in an AirBNB in Colombo, Sri Lanka, we suffered high fevers, horrible respiratory symptoms and awful headaches, all while enduring the unrelenting heat and humidity of the tropics. Antibiotics didn’t help. For three full weeks we lay pools of sweat listening to the raucous parakeets in the jackfruit tree outside our window. We did our best to take care of each other, eating food ordered by phone and left on our doorstep by boys on motos or tuk-tuks.
This was late February, and the world was just learning about the coronavirus. We’d met some Italian tourists ten days earlier in the Maldives. It was only later that we would learn that the virus was running rampant in Italy.
We didn’t know if we had COVID, but just in case we continued to self-isolate even after we started to feel better, quarantining for a full two weeks after our symptoms retreated. By then it was mid March and the world was starting to lock down. When we ventured outdoors for the first time to restock our groceries, some of the locals gave us evil glares, shouting “Corona! Corona!” They were right to be concerned. International air travel was spreading the coronavirus to the entire world.
We decided it was best to end our trip immediately and come back to the USA. Our decision was incredibly timely; we made the very last flight out of Sri Lanka before they closed the airport and the country’s borders. Next came a harrowing 40 hours of cancelled flights and last-moment redirects before we managed to get back to the States. If we hadn’t made that last flight out of Colombo, we’d have been stuck in Sri Lanka for months.
Back in North Carolina we were confronted by a strange new reality. Before we’d embarked, we’d sold all our possessions to fund our journey: house, car, furniture, clothes, anything that didn’t fit in our backpack. We had, literally, no worldly possessions. Thanks to the generosity of friends, we ended up in a condo with a bed—but no chairs, tables, sofa—and continued to live out of our backpacks while the shops were closing and supplies were scarce. Ironically, our living situation in the USA was far less hospitable than in Sri Lanka. We were self-isolated in the condo, and there were no boys on mopeds to bring us food. The grocery store shelves were stripped bare. And toilet paper? Nope.
By June my dad succumbed to depression related to the COVID lockdown and ended his own life. It was an awful and confusing time. My son’s planned military transfer from Alaska to North Carolina was postponed indefinitely by the government. My daughter’s wedding plans were destroyed because her Israeli fiancé could no longer come to the USA due to the travel restrictions (even as I write this, they’re still separated on different continents). I had friends, family and acquaintances suffer from COVID, and I lost a few to the disease or its consequences.
In the plus column, I spent more time in 2020 with my kids than I have in years, courtesy of videoconferencing. My son and daughter started a family-wide Dungeons & Dragons game that we all played in four hour sessions every week. We made plans together, completed projects together, and in general, got to know each other a lot better than we had. I learned that it’s incredibly gratifying when your children grow up and become your adult friends.
Jeanne and I also did something we would have never done without the disruption: bought a mountain farm property in quite literally the middle of nowhere, with no cell service, no internet, no electricity, and almost an hour from the nearest grocery store. It’s been an incredibly therapeutic experience hand-clearing the dense brush and undergrowth and uncovering one of the most gorgeous pieces of land I’ve ever seen.
I think the key to happiness in times like this is to not stay still. Even though your plans may be derailed and the world you thought you lived in is coming apart at the seams, it doesn’t mean that your life has to come to a standstill. Really, ALL change, bad or good, should be viewed as an opportunity to try something new. In my experience, it’s always possible to turn awfulness—the death if a family member, the unexpected end of a job, financial problems, or the dashing of a life-long dream—into an opportunity to grow in a new direction.
Now here comes 2021, with the promise of a vaccine and a subsequent reopening of our global society. This, combined with positive change in government gives me great hope for the future. Maybe Jeanne and I will build a new home. Maybe we’ll start new jobs. Maybe we’ll try to continue our travels. Maybe something else even better will come along. As long as we actively search for positive opportunities, and are flexible enough to recognize them and adapt to their circumstances, it’s been my experience that we’ll always find them. Attitude really is everything, especially in the dark times.
