Finding Familiarity When Things Are Far From Normal

BY BRENNA RITCHEY | APRIL 17, 2020

A few weeks ago, before the storm (whichever one comes to mind for you when you hear that word—for me, it’s partly the days-long bouts of rain here in Santa Barbara, but mostly the other, bigger storm: the hunker-down-and-stay-a-while one), my dad came to town. He drove two hours to see me, to hug me, to take me out to dinner. I hadn’t seen him in weeks. For me, it felt like a long time. Even before everything turned a little topsy-turvy, and going a day without hearing from him made me extra clingy.

We had no plans, really, other than to taste some exceptional Central Coast wines—a whole two days’ worth of father-daughter time, local food and wine, and listening to my dad rave about his Allbirds wool tennis shoes (which, in case you didn’t know, are the comfiest shoes in existence). I was excited to show him around, to be entirely “agenda-less” together. The prospect of plenty of good wine and few obligations has a way of clearing a schedule.

My schedule is pretty clear these days, too, but for reasons other than loads of father-daughter time. Instead, it’s a slew of cancelled plans, postponed events, empty spaces. And I don’t think such hollow days were made for this kind of heaviness.