ENERGY

I am standing by the kitchen counter, preparing to whisk yogurt into mayonnaise. It is December 24, and I am prepping the Christmas meal. The dogs are playing, snarling and leaping, too close to where I stand awkwardly balanced and fearful of hurting my healing kneecap. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a fight with bared fangs breaks out, serious enough for me to scream and hurl what I have in my hands to break it up. Unfortunately, it is the full yogurt bottle, which I have just opened, and there’s a breathless moment when the dogs and I stare at the splattered yogurt, some of which has landed in their dark fur. My scream has summoned helpers to the kitchen, who shoo the dogs out and mop up the pools of yogurt, while I sit down and shakily drink a glass of water. After my fall a month and a half ago, I still feel vulnerable and easily startled, but mainly the pandemic isolation has left me, and probably everybody else, with a brittle surface of composure, which it takes very little to break.

 

Hours later we’re sitting at the Christmas table, in harmony with the dogs – all forgiven and forgotten now. They’re sitting nicely waiting for their turkey platter, while the three of us savor the food, talking easily. This year we have decided to eat our meal in the late afternoon, and the waning grey light of a rainy day outside contrasts pleasantly with the warm colors of the table, the food and the candles inside. The convivence in isolation has shown us the best way to stay sane through this is to respect each other with no pretense, no judgement, allowing for plenty of personal space, and maintaining a pleasant tone whenever possible.

After testing negative twice for Covid 19 we could finally put behind us the tension of the first weeks in December. Life could go back to what we call normal now, and after Victor’s two weeks of isolation, we could talk to him without masks or maintaining distance. Such a relief to see his smile and feel his energy returning.

 

These near misses serve to remember there’s a lot to be grateful for. Up high on the list is the energy to keep going even in our confinement. My mother had a special energy which we called the “Norske Urkraft” (Norwegian primordial power) – out of nowhere she’d get a determined look in her eyes and then leap up to initiate a major project, like tarring the outside of the summer cottage - I can still remember her perched on a ladder with an old cape flapping in the brisk wind. My sister too could rise from a sickbed and embark on a major reorganization of her house when the energy flowed back though her. I have brought a version of that relentless energy to Brazil, where it sometimes overwhelms my surroundings.

 

As we drag ourselves to the finish line of this terrible year, I feel even my energy flagging, overwhelmed by the monotony of bad news and the shaky prospects ahead. Nonetheless I welcome 2021 in the hope that it will bring a renewal of energy and a double shot in the arm.