Since the start of the pandemic, we haven’t left the island much. This was not a huge hardship for us; we work at home, where we are comfortably situated and have plenty of room; we love it here. It’s all good.
In June, after we’d been vaccinated and things seemed to be opening up a bit, we did take a trip to California for my brother’s fiftieth birthday, and then a few weeks later we attended a wedding outside of Everett, Washington. But then the delta variant came roaring along, so we canceled most of the houseguests we’d optimistically scheduled and hunkered down again.
When we got a “save the date” notice for the California wedding of a very important friend in the middle of all this canceling-of-things, we figured it would soon be followed by a “change the date” notice, just like that July wedding had been.
Nope. Weeks and then months passed, and the wedding was still on.
There was much debate in this household, but we eventually decided it was too important to miss. So we made very careful, very thorough plans. We would drive (we far prefer to drive anyway, for a whole host of reasons), though we would not do the whole visiting-folks-and-shopping-everywhere extravaganza we like to do on driving trips; we would barely get out of the car. It helped that the happy couple was very serious about pandemic safety, requiring proof of vaccination or a negative test for all attendees, and planning for as much of the event as possible to be held outside.
All right, we thought. We can do this.