I don’t remember the year, or really how old I was, but I have this vivid memory from childhood. 

It was a breezy summer night, and we had just sat down to dinner. The window in our dining room was open, and we were all talking about the day. The breeze picked up, clouds moved in, and this beautiful summer evening quickly turned into a swelling thunderstorm. The kind with a huge rush of rain, cracks of flashing lightning, and roaring booms of thunder. I was young enough that it all made me a little nervous. The storm came out of nowhere. We had to jump up from the table and slammed down the window.

We sat back down to eat, all a little flustered at the downpour, and then….

CRACK. BOOM.

The lights went out.

There we were, eating whatever it was we were eating for dinner, in mostly complete darkness except for an occasional flash outside our window from the lightning. It was like we were in the middle of a Twilight Zone. In complete and utter darkness. Not ideal circumstances to say the least. 

Why do I remember this so vividly? Because of the traumatic experience?

No. I remember it because of what happened next.

My mom hopped up from the table and grabbed a couple of candles. She lit them, placed them in the middle of our table, and joked that we were going to have a romantic family dinner. We all calmed down, ate our dinner, cleaned up the table. As I was taking my plate into the kitchen, my dad walked around the corner with a board game in his hand. We all sat back down at the table, under the flickering illumination of the candles, set up the game, and started to play.

We battled through a couple of rounds of whatever Milton-Bradley game my dad picked out. It’s a fond memory from my childhood, us sitting at the dinner table laughing and playing a game together, despite the chaos of what was going on outside or the darkness barely pushed away.

In the middle of the second or third round of the game, the lights came back on as suddenly as they left. It was an abrupt change, going from near darkness to full-fledged luminescence. We were saved. Back to normal.

My brother and I weren’t as excited as you might think. Actually, we were bummed that the moment had changed. We were so bummed that my parents decided to turn off all the lights in the house, and we finished our board game night the way it was intended, with our shadows dancing on the wall from the fanned flame of the candles.

That was over 20 years ago. Probably more like 30 years ago. And still, I think back to that night with fondness.

The storm we’re in right now came on us suddenly, too. And the darkness seems to be closing in.

When you look back at COVID-19 in 20 or 30 years, what will you remember? What will your kids remember?

A dark traumatic experience? Or a soft glow of a fond memory?

Whatever it takes,

Adam