Where were you in the spring of 2020?
The Medina family arrived at San Francisco airport on March 26, 2020. It was evening, and as we got to the baggage area and met my parents, I burst into tears as I hugged my mom. I’ve written in detail about the previous week’s events that got us to the States, but I haven’t yet told much of the story of what happened next. I didn’t want to think about those months. It’s not a time I want to go back to.
Because we had been traveling internationally, we weren’t supposed to leave the house for two weeks. At that moment, quarantine was one of the biggest blessings to me. My soul was so overwhelmed with tension and confusion and loss that I hadn’t even begun to process – I was just surviving. Seeing only my husband, children, and parents was all I could handle.
We moved into my parents’ house – Gil and me in my old bedroom, the boys in the office, the girls in the living room. Vevette brought us over homemade pizza the next night. Gracey brought us homemade masks. I waved from the doorway, put on a pretend smile, and yelled out my thank-yous. I was grateful, of course. Just too bottled up with sorrow to really smile.
The kids got stir crazy quickly so my ever-creative husband got to work. He ordered a used XBox and Kinect (like a Wii) on eBay, and the kids, especially Johnny, spent many hours jumping and running in place through imaginary obstacle courses. We printed out a note: We’re wanting to buy a basketball hoop. It looks like you have one that hasn’t been used in a while. Interested in selling it? And left it on several neighborhood front porches. The very next day, a woman down the block called us. You can have mine for free, she said. And we wheeled it down the street.