In early 2020, an unknown virus tip-toed into our consciousness. At first, it was over there; not to worry, 2020 was going to be
a year of perfect vision.
Then we watched the world begin to shiver and shake as the virus devastated families and communities, wreaked havoc with
economies across the globe, and tested our beliefs about the world and each other.
As the quarantine slowed time, we began to question long-held assumptions about life on this planet as we glimpsed amazing acts of greed and generosity, creativity and stubborn adherence to old ways. Over and over we asked: Will there be a new normal?
By early June, it looked like the pandemic and this project were winding down: the curve was flattening; talk of reopenings filled
the news. We had survived. We didn't hear the virus laughing.
While we scoffed, corona came roaring back, hotter and more lethal than ever. Clearly, the great questions of this pandemic
still lay ahead of us: Would schools reopen? What would we do about the millions of workers with no jobs? Would there ever
be a vaccine that people could trust?
The virus isn't though with us, and as I close this reflection on its beginning, the question that still haunts me is:
Who will we be when the dust has settled? Joyce Wycoff