Curves

If I’ve learned one thing about myself in quarantine it is this: I can only cook 18 consecutive meals before my shell cracks and the crazy starts to hatch. Greg has made himself aware of the signs, so last week he wisely buckled us in the truck and off we went for a nature drive somewhere over the rainbow and called in The Old Goat’s take-out pork nachos for our pot of gold.

We wound through the canyon past the checkpoints: Bridal Veil Falls, Greg’s parking spot for fishing the river, the Sundance turn, the big swoop preceding Deer Creek, wind surfers and barns in the same point of view. Archer was drawing staircases on his Etch-a-Sketch and as the drive leveled out he challenged me to draw an Easter egg. It took a few tries—those two simple knobs lead me swiftly to cerebral dead ends—but I ended up a golden goose. Archer was blown away (5 year-olds are good for the ol’ self-esteem) and wanted to try for himself.

His first attempt was a square. Second attempt, not much better. Thirteenth attempt deemed “an eagle” by onlooking little brother. Finally, and might I add completely undeterred, he drew something quite ovalish. I was so proud of him. And then I said the unlikeliest, least planned bit of motherly advice: “Archer, if you can draw an oval with an Etch-a-Sketch, you can do anything in life.” Almost immediately he replied, “No, Mom. You can do anything with practice.”

I’ve thought about my egg feat and Archer’s wisdom all week. Which is more phenomenal: making an oval with a toy designed to draw straight lines, or mastering anything with enough practice?

Life before Covid-19 was a spirograph: overlapping color curves and endless possibilities spun into wildly intricate filigrees of freedom. Life amidst Covid-19 is an Etch-a-Sketch: straight lines inside a mandated box border. The rigidity of enclosure has been, at times, austere. FOR THE LOVE, SHAKE ME! START THIS GROUNDHOG DAY OVER!

In my metaphor, ovals symbolize happiness, therefore an oval born inside an Etch-a-sketch proves happiness and joy can exist anywhere. I suspect our prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, has been quoted roughly 5.6 billion times for his assurance,

The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives.

Isn’t that just another way of saying ovals can be drawn with straight line knobs? Or ovals against all odds just take practice?

So I’m practicing drawing ovals because I know they are possible. We’re all practicing ovals: smiling at each other behind masks, waving through our windows, air hugging, Zooming, delivering baked love* on doorsteps. Ovals in a time of pandemic are beautiful and deserve to be framed. Maybe an Etch-a-Sketch isn’t a prison, but a frame. Perhaps this unique season in history is showcasing goodness we’ve never been prouder to create.

I feel like the world’s population is collectively showing and receiving each other’s best attempts at ovals, and it feels awfully unified and not at all isolated. It’s like the next socially-distanced rally at the Capitol could be optimistic knob bosses waving Etch-a-Sketches in the air to chants of NO MORE STAIRCASES! WE ARE DRAWING OVALS!

We’re sketching for weeks to come but I know it’s not all right angles of doom. There will be softness, and arcs of reaching, and miraculous shapes drawn from people’s persistence.

Let’s not flatten all the curves.

*Are we all making banana bread? Pre-quarantine I made Jaime’s banana muffins twice a week. We’re definitely up to 3x/week. Perhaps 2020’s slogan should be “No Black Banana Left Behind”. For Jaime's muffins we are a house divided and do half with mini chocolate chips and half with blueberries—because my life isn't complicated enough. I also do 1/4 c. each of all-purpose, wheat, and almond flour to make my 3/4 c. flour, but 3/4 c. all-purpose works just fine. And I reduce the sugar to 1/4 cup. We only do minis and I always leave them in for 15 (or more, you really can't burn them). We like them darker!