The Letter I Wouldn't Have Wanted to Read

January 1, 2020

Dear Britt,

I know you have big hopes for this year. You're wanting to take better care of yourself, you're looking forward to some vacations, and you're really excited that you're getting closer to having all of your kids in school.

Well, I have some news. Everything is about to change. Six weeks from now, there's going to be a toilet paper shortage. You're going to laugh about it and think everyone is being ridiculous because, like every other panic-inducing disease of the past, the novel coronavirus is going to blow over. It will be no big deal.

But four weeks later, things are going to start getting weirder.  You're going to attend stake conference, and there's going to be a feeling of uneasiness. People will announce that they are not shaking hands. Prayers will be said that include the word "coronavirus." There will be an unusual edginess there that you've never felt before. Someone in the back of the room will cough, and everyone's arm hairs will stand on end. You'll talk with your friends, "Do we need to be worried about this?" Everyone will say, "No, we don't need to be worried about this." But all of you will confess that you feel like you need to go home and take a bath in bleach. That will be the last time you guys hang out in person for a really long time.

Two days later, you'll go to Sam's Club. You'll luck out and snag one of the last packages of toilet paper. You're going to need it.

Truer words have never been spoken

That Wednesday, March 11, the World Health Organization will declare the novel coronavirus, COVID-19, a pandemic. On Thursday, March 12, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, your church, will announce the discontinuation of church meetings for an unspecified amount of time. On Friday the 13th, you'll learn that your school district, nay, all Utah schools, will dismiss for two weeks, but two weeks isn't going to cut it. They will eventually push the date to May 1st, and on April 14, they’ll announce that the kids aren’t going back to school this year.

You're going to be churching and schooling your kids from home. Dance lessons will be canceled. Piano lessons will be done via FaceTime. Young Men camp will be canceled. You're going to be doing Zoe's speech therapy yourself. Scotty will be working from home. His boss will say something disconcerting, "Plan on months."

Your spring break trip to the national parks will be canceled. Your husband's annual trip to Disneyland with his friends will be postponed. Disneyland will be closed.

CLOSED.

DISNEYLAND!

(The year you bought an annual pass).

Your anniversary trip in May will  be canceled. Your family vacation to Mount Rushmore will be canceled. Your calendar will basically fall off the face of the earth, but you'll continue to receive alerts for all the things you were supposed to do.

Remember all your plans for singing time in primary? And how excited you were about teaching the kids from the Book of Mormon? Most of that planning is going to go out the window. And while we're on that topic, they are going to try and release you from that calling while you're away from church. You can beg them to let you stay a while longer. They might let you, but either way, you're getting a new calling. And it will be the wrong calling. Three hours after they set you apart, you'll learn this, and they'll tell you the calling they were supposed to give you, and you'll be devastated. You'll wrestle over the "real" calling. You won't be mad at the people, but you'll be very upset about the circumstances. You'll feel lost for a while.

General Conference will be held in a small auditorium with fewer than ten people in attendance. Oh, haven't I told you? You're not going to be allowed to “gather.” You will be ordered to stay home. Most stores will close. Shopping for groceries will become one of the weirdest experiences of your life. Stickers will line the floor telling you where to stand. You'll have to remain 6' away from other people. They'll call it "social distancing." Plastic screens will go up between you and the cashiers. You might even have to wait in line to get IN the store. Your milk will be taken from you at the register at Walmart, and you’ll be told you’re not allowed to buy more than one. People will wear masks and gloves. You will witness all different levels of protection and all different levels of obedience.

Your dentist will cancel your six month check-up. Your hairstylist won't be able to work. You will have book club meetings on Zoom. You won't be able to eat in restaurants. You can't have game nights. Your kids won't be able to play with friends. You can't go see a movie. In fact, movies that were supposed to be released will be postponed or made available for streaming if you're willing to pay. Playgrounds will be closed. The Olympics will be postponed. The library will close. Your kids will be with you all the time.

You'll celebrate a few holidays, starting with Saint Patrick's Day. Then April Fools' Day. Then Easter. Then Earth Day. You'll be bored enough to celebrate Earth Day. Birthdays will pass. Eva will turn five.

The only event to look forward to for several weeks will be Garbage Day.

On top of all that, there's going to be an earthquake that will scare the living $H!t out of your family. Don't worry - everything be fine. But you'll wake up to aftershocks and phantom quakes for a while. Be grateful for what it is. There will be worse things happening all over the world.

I know this sounds completely insane, but gurl, it's going to happen. You're going to worry. You're going to have really hard days. But you'll find that you're more capable than you realize.

If it helps, go ahead and stash away some Milk Duds. You're gonna really want chocolate.

Love,

Future Britt

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I wouldn't have wanted to know. Would you?