We live in Spain, one of the countries hardest hit by Covid-19 and with some of the strictest confinement rules around. Covid-19 has affected people here in many different ways from
- the health care works living through war-like conditions with war-like causalities,
- to sick and dying wondering whether they will leave this earth without ever seeing the face or feeling the embrace of a loved one again,
- to the family-centric Spaniards watching from a distance as their parents and loved ones die without being able to do anything to comfort them or even bury their bodies,
- to those single people who haven’t had a physical human interaction (other than at the grocery store) in over 50 days,
- to families like mine trying to juggle work and homeschooling with their children’s extreme cabin fever.
My family has been very fortunate that we haven’t been sick yet and that as non-Spaniards we haven’t had to suffer the predicament of elderly relatives. So while I recognize that Covid-19 has been much harder on other people here than on us, watching the impact on my children’s mental health and not knowing how to help has been worse than the sleepless nights, the worrying about the future, or when I will see my parents again.
Even when the government lifted the strict restrictions on children leaving the house after 45 days of total confinement, the one hour/day walk they’re now permitted to do isn’t doing the trick. I still witness my children unravel – from one moment to the next – before my eyes. And it terrifies me. More than going outside, they need to interact with other children their age. The need space from their brothers and sisters, from the parents. They need to be with other people that do not live in their same home, and they need to be with them in 3D, not on a flat screen with a blue light.
Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening any time in the near future. More than wanting my life back, I want theirs back.