Rory Fitzgerald
What is rare, becomes precious. During an Irish January, sunlight is perhaps the most precious commodity in all of nature. On this icy morning, it shines low and golden across frosty fields. Its light touches the soil, awakening snowdrops from their winter sleep. The sun causes stirs of life within the trees limbs, as furled leaves grow silently, tentative and tiny, within the wombs of thousands of buds. Each day now, the sun grows subtly in strength, as the Earth tilts serenely on its axis, back towards the sun.
I’ve been chopping logs and splitting them with an axe. The kids help me to stack them in the shed. It’s satisfying work, and inherently hopeful. It will be a couple of years before the day comes when they are put in the fire to warm us. We cut the wood now in the hope that all will be well then, by our fireside and under our roof. Each freshly cut log tells the story of its years of life, each ring represents a season of growth and sleep. Some years show far more growth than others. In a year where the growing conditions are harsh, trees grow far less.
I wonder if this strange, long year of the coronavirus plague will be a time of greater growth for children, or one which stunts their growth. We normally have a full house on New Years’ Eve, full of friends and family. On this unusually quiet New Year’s Eve, I sat with the kids to look back through photographs of 2020. I wanted them to see that even in this strange year, there was much good. There were photos of them swimming in the sea, kayaking in the stream and playing on the beach. Birthday parties were smaller than usual, but loving and fun. To understand coronavirus from the kids’ perspective, on the first day of Covid-enforced home school of 2021, I asked the older kids to write about the ways they grew, and were held back, by the pandemic in 2020.
My 11-year-old son Sean said that the downsides of 2020 for him were not having birthday parties, not seeing his friends as much, having school tours cancelled and his teams’ rugby and soccer matches abandoned. On the plus side, he said, “I have grown much closer to nature this year, spending so much time in the fresh air. I also loved sailing down the coast with the family and seeing dolphins swimming elegantly alongside us. I have also grown even closer to my family this year. Normally, I would be really busy with school, homework and clubs, with little time for anything else. But this year I often had nothing to do but have fun with my family – it was brilliant!”
My daughter Rose, who is nine, said the negatives of 2020 were also not being able to see friends and family, and the limits on travel. Yet she also wonders whether, some aspects of the Covid-19 pandemic are a blessing in disguise. She wrote: “During this strange time, I’ve found that I’ve grown closer to my siblings, not only physically, but mentally too. Not going to school means that my brother and sisters are my only playmates. This means we do everything together. As well as playing together more often, we also help each other more.”
When the pandemic finally passes, we must not forget these lessons. Modern life makes us hyperactive: kids are shuttled from one activity to another after school, weekends involve schedules of parties and activities while the holidays involve a frantic rush to the airport. Often a greater joy emerges when we slow down, and take more time to simply be.