Mother Daughter Quarantine Diaries
Day four of our family’s quarantine.
Can we please fast forward two months?
These were the words our high school senior, Gisella, uttered earlier today. In an effort to steer her away from any sense of entitlement, I tried to convey to her the importance of perspective by imparting reminders of how fortunate we are, of the many who are homeless, live in cramped spaces, are losing lives, jobs and security. But this morning at 5AM insomnia took me on a global voyage before settling upon our home and ultimately on our ultra-social daughter for whom this lockdown has been the most difficult. The perspective I usually try to maintain was eclipsed by a different sort of clarity. One which summoned me at that very moment in the peace of dawn to quietly exit my room and snuggle up to her hoping to provide comfort.
Gisella hasn’t been able to see the only boyfriend she has ever had, is sad about her school closure and the fact that as a high school senior it is becoming increasingly likely that she will not experience her prom or graduation ceremony. She was also rejected from several universities despite her 3.95 GPA and nearly five times the necessary number of volunteer hours to graduate. But it is much more than that. Isolation from her friends who will, like her, soon be off to college, goes against her natural disposition. Gisella is a rare breed. At the age of five, much to her parent’s dismay, she handled injured bees on our terrace until they took flight. She refused having her horse groomed for her when partaking in equestrian competitions, completed nearly 300 hours of community service in high school, and has been an enormous support to her peers, some of whom have lost a parent, a sibling, tried to commit suicide, or have been seriously ill. Coming to the aid of others is a calling for her. We know it, her friends know it and we are all lucky to have her in our lives. 
Gisella’s brother, Dario, as a graduating senior is in the same boat and while he is experiencing similar feelings he has been able to adapt as has our youngest. I am thankful for the lightbulb that went off indicating that for her this is not a case of entitlement but more so one of her identity being challenged. She will survive this adversarial moment during which we hope to provide the comfort she needs.
As I ponder the opportunity we had to host Gisella’s boyfriend and forty-something friends for her school’s winter formal a few months ago, I feel ever so grateful. May we understand each other and our children fully so we can offer one another encouragement and support even if that means sending “perspective” out the door knowing full well that we will let it back in tomorrow.
