The last blog I wrote was written in the early days of quarantine, I had only been laid off for a month and a half, and we all hoped the world go back to normal by mid-May. My-oh-my were we wrong… I have now been laid off for more than three months, and nothing about my life is the same as it was on March 14th—when I last closed the Burial Ground at Christ Church Philadelphia.

I truly and deeply loved everything about my life on March 14th. I was lucky enough to have two jobs that I loved and a tight-knit family of co-workers. I had just completed my master’s degree from Drexel University and was interviewing for full-time positions up and down the Eastern Seaboard. I had a beautiful apartment 200 feet in the air overlooking the largest city park in the country. My friends and I were meeting for happy hour and going to museums, exhibits, and tours around the city nearly every weekend. Everything about my life in Philadelphia was exactly what I wanted it to be, and the world was my oyster.

Then, COVID-19 shut down the country and it all changed. Nothing about my life today is what I was expecting it to be three months ago. The entire arts and culture industry has collapsed and there are hundreds of thousands of people just like me trying to figure out where to go next.

The lease for my aerie apartment ended this month, and I find myself once again in uncertain waters. With no way of knowing when the global health crisis will end or when Museums or Theatres will start hiring again, I decided to put nearly all of my belongings into storage and wait to see what the rest of 2020 has to throw at me.

Some mornings, I wake up angry. I am angry at everything 2020 has taken from humanity, from my friends, our families, and me. Some days I am anxious; how will I progress toward my goals when the world is shut down, when will the state finally process my unemployment, when will people of color and members of the LGBTQ2IA+ community be safe from persecution, when will I feel safe enough to go to the grocery store, what new horrible thing will happen this month? But most mornings, I wake up grateful. I am grateful to be alive, I am grateful that my vulnerable family members are safe and healthy, I am grateful that I had three months of savings to get me through the end of my lease.

On my last night in Philadelphia, I had dinner at a friend’s house in Queen Village. We talked about the world, our anxiety and rage at 2020, and all the little pieces of our lives. I stopped in Old City on the way and took some photos because I did not know when—or if—would be coming home. There is nowhere in the world like Philadelphia on the Fourth of July, and my heart aches to not be in the city, not only this weekend but every day I am not there. I do not know if I will ever live there again. I want to. I want to bake cupcakes for the birthday parties my found family throws, I want to talk to people from around the world about Mary Andrews, Deborah Franklin, and Annis Stockton, I want to visit with the farmers at my weekly market, but that is no longer possible. It is difficult to know what will be possible in the coming months or years. So, I decided not to sign a new lease and to wait.

Not being tied into a lease means that I can take a job anywhere. With jobs in my industry being scarce and sporadic, living a nomadic life in the guestrooms of my family members’ homes seemed like the best possible way to find a job. I can be anywhere I need to be in 2 days and having family and friends around the country means no matter where I find employment, I can start right away.

I still do not know what is next, but today, I write to you from my brother’s dining room table in Ypsilanti, Michigan. My new kitten and I are sitting next to my six-year-old nephew, as he works on a Spiderman coloring book and tells me about every car he has ever seen. This is not the Independence Day Weekend I expected, but I am starting to be okay with that.

So, even though the pieces of my old life make me want to be in Philadelphia this weekend, I am fine coloring scenes of Spiderman and Mary-Jane, re-arranging my goals for a COVID-19 ravaged America, and helping my brother install his new gazebo.

This is not the life I expected to have, but it is a pretty good life all the same.

P.s. If you need a guest lecturer or tutor let me know because my unemployment is STILL messed up.