My story of the past several months has been one of profound lows and profound highs. As for most people, the onset of COVID-19 and its horrid consequences really hit me hard; despite having my husband and twin (18-yr-old) children at home (and my dog, thank God), the hermit-like existence felt so isolating, so depressing. The political situation led by Trump and his cronies made everything that much worse.
The fact that my children got into the colleges they wanted—UVM and UChicago—made me very happy, the culmination of years of parenting and education. No prom, no senior week, no timely graduation… a major low. Eventually, a high school graduation in early August in person… gratifying and yet sad because of the physical and emotional distance. The rollercoaster of will they or won’t they go to college on campus… and ultimately, yes, they are. Will Rebecca and Jason get to stay at school? Will they remain healthy? Will their friends? Can we visit them? What will virtual classes from their dorm (or wherever) be like? Maybe this is minutiae. But it feels big. The challenge has been trying to keep it together emotionally so that my kids know I am still their rock, the anchor they can count on.
My work as director of admissions of The Rashi School has brought me joy. It was an exhausting few months with overwhelming demand, especially this summer, among families wanting an outstanding Jewish education for their kids. The school’s mission was a constant reminder that I am helping create good, Jewish young people who will tikkun olam.
I guess everything since March has magnified my emotions. For every positive, uplifting moment there is an equal, opposite feeling of melancholy and fear.
