Thoughts On The Pandemic

As we rebuild our foundation, we must carefully select what we grow and have patience as the seeds are sewn.

I tossed my heavy backpack onto the couch, grabbed my headphones, and bolted to my backyard. Sunshine had finally arrived in upstate New York, and I was greeted by tall, vibrant shrubs, bushes, and greenery. I sighed and dragged my feet back inside.

Stupid flowers.

I was reminded that my favorite afterschool activity had abruptly ended a few days prior. For hours, while listening to music, I would swing, gently at first and then more aggressively, on my hammock. My head was getting closer and closer to the clouds.

Then, due to my frequent — and boundary-pushing — usage, down came the hammock, Sarah and all. In the legal case of hammock versus me, when the inanimate object lost, so did I. Thankfully, I barely had a bruise; it was more surprise, than harm. That was, until roots were planted in the soil. Then, my angsty teenage self was absolutely harmed.

My father, who had warned me to check the net’s structural integrity before using it as a makeshift circus prop, feared that repairing or replacing the hanging hangout would lead to an injury. After a visit to the garden store, foliage replaced the spot where my feet once kicked the earth.  It was now impossible to sway though the natural barrier.

And so, I slumped to the kitchen table, unzipped my backpack, and opened my notebook. Due to plants, high school homework time would come early for the foreseeable future.

On a recent trip to my parents’ house, my child and I pulled weeds from the flowerbed and collected blooms in a vase. We stood still as we tried to identify the creatures that snacked from the bird feeder hanging where the hammock once resided. The garden was flourishing, our hands were dirty, the house was filled with the scent of spring. I missed the hammock, but this was another form of lovely.

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A couple of weeks ago, it felt like we all suddenly plunged to the ground. And now we sit inside reminiscing. Many of us were gliding through the air, oblivious that our support system was wearing thin. As we rebuild our foundation, we must carefully select what we grow and have patience as the seeds are sown. It is our duty to protect the future and ensure that our new normal, although different and imperfect, will be safe, sunny, and full of life.


Sarah was the General Counsel / first Lawyer at Etsy and Vroom.  She’s a co-founder of The Fourth Floor, a creator and producer of Legal Madness, an NYU Law School Engelberg Center fellow, a board member, an investor, and a speaker. You can also find Sarah hammering silver, eating candy, and chasing her child. sarahfeingold.com.

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