My mom got her Covid vaccine a couple of weeks ago. I was thrilled and surprised at how quickly it happened for her. We had heard nothing from her physicians, and we assumed there would be no movement for a while, and then all of a sudden, she had an appointment, and just two days later, the vaccine was in her arm.
“Relieved” doesn’t begin to describe it.
Like many of us, I assume, I’ve been very concerned with what would happen with my mom’s health as the pandemic progressed, and I’ve been very cautious about staying away altogether, even though we would usually have planned a visit or a trip together for the summer.
And my mom, again like many of us, has been itching to go somewhere. Ordinarily, the campsites she likes to visit in Ontario would begin to open up around May 1st, but this year, as the vaccine rollout continues at its uncertain pace, it’s unclear when the campsites will be ready for visitors this year.
I have been watching the snow melt off of my back deck, as I do every year around this time, thinking, “Come on, summer.”
Summer is almost definitely going to look different this year than it normally does, but the good news for us all is that as more of us get the vaccine, the more life can begin to take on its normal shape again. My mom is a spirited 62 years old, and as it feels like spring, the snow is melting, temperatures are climbing, and having had the vaccine, she’s ready to get back out there.
I feel the same way.
I’m remembering when I was a child, every year from when I was about 5 til I was 16, how we used to travel to Grand Manan Island in New Brunswick, via the ferry from Blacks Harbour. It was about a two-hour journey in those days, and the smell and sounds of the sea — salt air, crashing waves, even the cries of accompanying seagulls — all felt like comfort to me.
My favorite place in the world is Seal Cove Sand Beach on Grand Manan. My grandparents lived in Seal Cove, and I used to walk from their home down to the beach listening to my Walkman. When I was a teenager, I worked in the smoke sheds there, stringing and boning herring. It was a smelly job, and the seagulls made a lot of noise as we were working, but I loved it.
Seal Cove felt like home.
I miss that not-at-home-but-at-home feeling. I know a lot of us do.
As we start to look forward to the world opening itself back up, we can rely on good habits to carry us through the temptation to spend more than we need to. Many of my clients have built up quite a nest egg of savings in the past year of lockdown, and there might be a temptation for some to spend it all on one big splurge — a wedding, say, or a travel plan that’s been on hold.
But remember the old adage about the best things in life being free.
A few years ago, I went to the wedding of a client of mine out in British Columbia. They had been clients for a long time, so by the time they were ready to get married, they had already integrated habits around their savings goals, and paying for things in cash. They earmarked a set amount they wanted to spend on their wedding, which had been built up in their savings account over years, well before even getting engaged, and they were unwilling to go beyond that.
So instead of feeling the urge to splurge and go into debt to pay for the wedding, they got creative about their party. The wedding and reception took place in the same outdoor venue, and the natural beauty provided a relaxed-yet-elegant setting that required no extra adornment. Most importantly, the couple were able to relax and fully enjoy and immerse themselves in their wedding day, since they weren’t going into debt to pay for one days’ enjoyment. The day had been paid for in full by their great saving habits of years before.
Money is a means to enjoying moments, but it can’t create great moments. That all comes from us.
My favorite part the couple had planned for us might have been the arrangements they made for us all to get to the wedding. We all were booked on a ferry ride from mainland B.C. to Vancouver Island. I was on the ferry with some other friends who were going to the wedding, and the simple pleasure of a two-hour sea crossing — the waves, the salt air, and again, even the cries of seagulls — was just as resonant and transcendant for adult me on the West Coast as it had been for little-kid me on the East Coast, so many years ago, traveling to Grand Manan with my family.
I looked up the etymology and history of Grand Manan Island recently. The name is a combination of French (“maman” = mother) and Passamoquoddy (“munanook” = island). And according to the oral history of the Maliseet-Passamaquoddy-Penobscot First Nations, Grand Manan and the surrounding islands were originally used as a place for elderly Passamaquoddy to rest and keep safe during winter months.
I love that notion. It’s still relevant today. We’ve all done our best to keep ourselves, our relatives, and our communities safe during this long pandemic winter, and now that the snow is melting, the vaccines are being administered, and we’re ready to re-emerge, we can take comfort that we’ve all done what we could to prepare. And now, having both saved and kept safe, we get to reap the benefits of a long-awaited, long-dreamed-of spring.
Bring on the seagulls.
