Letter 3/20

 Dear 2020,

Are you well? I am too despite the day of the week.

South Africans have a family meeting this evening. Number 1 (Our president) is going to address the nation on the state of Covid-19 affairs. We've had these regularly since we were placed under lockdown when the first wave hit South Africa in March. The numbers have been spiking and we're now being hit by a second wave. 

When the first lockdown was announced it felt like we were in some weird movie and someone had flipped the script. The restrictions and limitations took "plans change" to a whole new level. Plan B became Plan C. Plan C became Plan D. Jonga, before I new it I was looking at Plan L with bated breath. At the end of the day, turned out to be Plan Z that worked. Life showed us flames this year!

I guess tonight's family meeting will be like previous ones. There's the side of the family that won't even be bothered. There's the side that will watch hoping that the blow won't make this year any more worse. There are those family members who are stocking up on bev and cigarettes just in case. There are cousins who are adamant that nothing will stand in their way of groove. South Africans have a unique way if dealing with collective trauma. We hardly dwell. I guess we can't help finding rainbows and silver linings. We move on while deep down we carry the wounds of our past that are still present in our present.

I'm not looking forward to the family meeting. We already have hotspot regions in the naughty corner. I think tonight the list is getting longer. We haven't been at our best behaviour. Something just tells me this meeting will be a final nail to some businesses. My heart breaks for families who've lost loved ones. People struggling with comorbidities. Everyone whose life has been turned upside down by Covid-19.

One of the hardest things to accept this year was that there really is a time for everything. 2020, you've been a taker and you continue to wreck havoc...

Letter 2/20

 Hello 2020,

As most of you know I grew up in rural Eastern Cape, South Africa. We're big on tradition and culture. Double edged sword I tell you. I say this because the lessons imparted there have formed the cornerstone of who I am and I'm proud. I say this, too, because there's also toxicity that I grow uncomfortable with each and every day. Those are stories for another time though. My Xhosa folks are big on hierarchy. One of the many things you're told growing is up is not to be a spoon. If I had received a rand for all the times I heard "Musa ukuba licephe, Linda!" (Don't be a spoon, Linda), I'd be filthy rich. Why? Spoons carry while they themselves are being carried. Basically boils down to adhering to the hierarchy of things. I've adulted so much this year that I ended up regreting the days when I couldn't wait to adult. Gone are the days when I used to envy the masses who carry spoons.

I've known that adulting is a trap for a while but, boy did you make things worse 2020. Bantase, I wish they had told me that things aren't so rosy here in Adultville. The weight of those spoons is heavy. One of the worst things about that weight is that it doesn't come with a healthy manual of dealing with things.

The lockdown period felt like a large magnifying glass on that manual. Oh you know, the manual that hides behind keeping routine or any of the things we do to "escape" the reality of our situations. Things we did because others did and not because we even understood them fully ourselves. One of the growing pains of Adultville is letting go of expectations that other people must show up for you. The expectations we harbour that we will be treated the same way that we treat others. The expectation that life will always be fair. Lockdown made me confront the real reasons why I was scared of change.

It's tough here in Adultville but I'm taking each day as it comes. 2020, thank you for teaching me the art of breathing in and out and getting out of bed when all I wanted was to snuggle in for "5 more minutes". Thank you for making me appreciate the luxury of being able to show up...

Letter 1/20

 Dear 2020, 

I don't even know where or how to begin my conversation with you. I've been dreading it. I've been dreading it since this year took a very quick left and became the craziest I've ever seen. I bet 2019 laughed in our faces while we bid her good riddance on some "you ain't seen nothing yet" tip.

You know how they say that it takes a village to raise a child? I think discovering this is how and when I learnt the art of avoidance back in the day. I was a little bit mischievous. Yes. Only a tiny winsy little bit. Every time I got into trouble I'd almost wish that both my parents were present so that I could be punished once. Worst case scenario was getting up to mischief while I was out and about and the elder who punished me promised to tell my folks. I'd mull over it. Wonder which part of my body would be attacked or which privileges would be revoked. The village had its cons!My mother once went through a phase of asking us to pick our branches for punishment. Now that was tricky. I've always known how to dodge my father though - make sure you're closer to the nearest exit during the confrontation. Just in case. 

All your exists were closed 2020! Girl, you weren't even kind enough to make us pick our own branches. You just hit us with a snowball of curves and we just had to dodge, duck, take the jabs and...survive. You were also kind though. I'll give you that. You were kind enough to reconnect us with parts of ourselves we had lost touch with. You've shown us new depths of gratitude. You've, and continue to, make us aware that plans are subject to change and that guarantees are a luxury. You've taken. You've given revelations. You've brought change...

I never really have a formula for these conversations. The main goal is to reflect on the year that has been and the lessons imparted. It's hardly ever a walk in the park and I don't expect this series to be. All I can hope for is presence and sincerity from my side.

I'm looking forward to sharing the journey with the Life and Her Lessons (LAHL) family. This blog has been a safe space for conversations we hardly pause to have in our daily encounters. As the year draws to an end, I look forward to finding meaning from life and her lessons with you all...

Letters to 2020

 Hello family! 

I've been looking at the stats and the circle has grown bigger since the last time I checked. Welcome to everyone who is new or here for the first time. Welcome back to the tribe of readers who are regulars. You are all appreciated.

As most of you know, I began writing a collection of reflective letters at the end of 2018. I think the correct term for it is epistolary. The Netflix and chill junkie in me is so tempted to refer to the collection as a series. If that were the actual case, Season 1 of the letters was published during the last 18 days of 2018. Season 2 was in 2019 when 19 letters were published. I'm happy and excited to announce that Season 3 of the 20 letters to 2020 kicks off on 12 December. 

When I first wrote the letters, I was trying to revive the blog and get back into creative writing. Little did I know that I wasn't the only person who needed reflective conversations. Each letter has brought an opportunity for conversations of healing, joy and an escape from spaces which suffocate us with the toxicity of silence and the inability to just talk about certain things that life and her lessons throw our way. 

I'm looking forward to the 2020 reflective journey and I trust that we'll walk it together.

Take care.

Linda