School buses crawled down Georgia Avenue. Parents parked semi-illegally on the culs-de-sac behind the elementary school. Crossing guards held up their hands to stop traffic.
March 15, the first day of school for 20,000 students in my suburb of Washington, D.C., also marked the return of obstacles to driving that had been absent for over a year. Even driving through the district, where the schools are still closed, was tougher, as the roads leading into downtown were crowded by cars with Maryland tags. Parents, now finally freed from doing half of the teachers’ jobs for them, were heading into work.
My secret free street parking spots were now filled.
The school playground and the school ballfield that had grown grass so nicely last year were now getting wear and tear.
Those of us brave souls who were willing to venture out and had gotten so much of the world to ourselves over the past horrible year are now increasingly forced to share it with our neighbors as they pop their heads up from 12 months in the bunker.
When restaurants in Annapolis, Maryland, were allowed to open at 100% capacity this month, it didn’t make the lines shorter, but longer.
And the increased demand for doing stuff showed up in large LED numbers for us, as gasoline prices climbed north of $3. Remember a year ago when oil prices were negative? (If someone bought a barrel back then, now’s the time to sell.)
Nobody would relive 2020 if given a choice. But some of us found solace in the empty roads and playgrounds. We owe it to our neighbors to welcome them back to the world. It’s a beautiful place, especially in spring.
Looking at a sea of taillights ahead of us on the Capital Beltway on a Friday in March, my wife recalled how this used to be a regular occurrence in the Beforetimes. Now, after a year, it had returned. Turning the lockdown trope on its head, she said, “Nature is healing.”
