How COVID-19 Stole My Around-the-World Trip and Offered a Gift in Return
When a good friend grew tired of knitting scarves and hats, she moved onto power bands, ribbed wrist bands that resemble sweater cuffs without the rest of the sweater. As she knitted, she concentrated on a specific word, imbuing the yarn with characteristics of that word. I selected “flexibility” as a reminder, each time I looked at my wrists, to relinquish control of everyday situations, allow my children to take the lead more often, and concede to my husband’s perspective from time to time.
In short, I wanted to become the person I used to be.
Ten years ago, when I became a mother, I embarked on an unintentional journey of calcification. I rejoiced at evenly spaced naps of specific lengths. I embraced the regularity of diaper changes. I controlled vitamin consumption by making my own baby food. My inner planner and control freak loved organizing every bit of my daughters’ lives and choosing exactly when and what they wore, played with, watched, and ate.
I wasn’t always so controlling, though.
In my early 20s, I departed for the tiny village of Kuncila in Mali, West Africa as a U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer, spending over two years without running water or electricity. Half the time, I had no idea what was going on or what people were saying. One…
