You don't know what you got

 . . . until it's gone.

And then we realize just how much we took for granted. 

A year ago we never dreamed of living a life without huge sporting events, big social gatherings, hugs, physical proximity to others, family events with more than immediate family, face to face conversations without fear of contracting or spreading a virus, shared meals, potluck dinners, parties, buffets, etc. 

Not more than a week ago we never knew how much we took heat, electricity, and water for granted until we were forced to experience one of Texas' coldest winter weeks ever without all of the above. 

Five years ago, two very dear friends (who don't even know each other) joyfully entered an anticipated life event side by side with their spouses only to face unimagineable grief as they found themselves in those celebratory events suddenly alone. 

A friend just celebrated her sweet mother's birthday, saying we'll celebrate right once things settle down. Things like COVID that keeps families spread apart, temporarily living life on pause, pushing back all plans to be together in order to keep everyone safe. But three weeks later, that sweet mother joined the celebration of angels in heaven rather than celebrating with her children and grandchildren "once things settle down."

I didn't know how much I took a simple breath for granted until I had to gasp for one just to climb into my own bed while sick with a secondary infection from COVID. 

A year ago, I didn't know teaching all my students in one classroom was something I should even take for granted, until I find myself now mentally and physically stretched trying to teach kids on two sides of a screen, some in front of me behind masks and transparent plastic walls with others sitting somewhere at home, distracted by all sorts of noise and interferences beyond my control. 

We just don't know what we got until it's gone.

Today we breathe in the fresh, warm Texas air with a little more gratitude. We conserve the lights and the water a little less reluctantly now that we know what it's like to run out. 

I climb in to bed and take a deep breath with a thankful heart because I know what it's like to struggle for that breath.

I cherish time spent with others these days, six feet apart or not, because you don't know how quickly it can all be swept away, leaving only memories in its place.

Things like COVID, sudden illnesses, car accidents, and a Texas snowpocalypse take a lot from us, but they actually do us a lot of good. They may shake us, but they wake us up to the reality in front of us, reminding us to realize what we have . . . before it's gone. 

Looking around with my eyes and heart a little more open these days.