Disruptions are felt the most acutely when they interrupt unremarkable normalcy. Wednesday was unremarkably normal. A half-day virtual school day for my three kids, they were in and out, playing with the girls from the house upstairs. A divorced mom of three, I rent the above-ground basement apartment from a widowed mom of three. We are a 21st-century Brady Bunch, bound together by circumstance.
9/11/01 was on a Tuesday, a gorgeous, blue-skied Tuesday, and we can all say exactly where we were and what we were doing. I will always remember 1/6/2021 was on a Wednesday, that midweek day by which my home has dissolved into a total, but comfortable disarray. I will always remember the scene: the kids, complaining of the cold weather, camped out on the floor watching Disney+. Me, on the couch, plugging away on my spring college composition syllabus.