Every Friday, I treat my seven-year-old daughter to a donut. It’s one of those small joys we cling to while navigating the challenges of the past year. She eagerly anticipates it — counting down the days, in fact — so I continue this tradition to lift her spirits. I view it as a reward for enduring another week of pandemic schooling, where she can’t hug her friends or even chat with them during lunch.
Last Wednesday, even during her spring break from first grade, the countdown started: “Only two more days until my donut!” While we were engaged in other activities, she often pondered whether she should get sprinkles.
So, there we were last Friday, on a chilly yet sunny April afternoon, waiting in a long line at a donut shop. I chose one a bit farther from home because it had a drive-thru, and I needed a way to pass the time.
It had been a long week, and frankly, a long year. I was overwhelmed with the emotions that have accompanied this pandemic: exhaustion, monotony, and a persistent sense of dread. This week, however, a new emotion emerged.
On her last day of school before the break, my daughter joyfully shared that her teacher was flying to California for spring break, while a classmate was embarking on a Disney cruise. Other families I knew were also traveling; some were visiting relatives, others sightseeing. During her spring break, over a million travelers passed through TSA checkpoints daily. And we’ve all seen those crowded images from Florida.
But I’m not vaccinated, and the CDC advises against travel until I am, so we spent our spring break in our driveway and living room. Many local outdoor activities were fully booked due to COVID restrictions, and the chilly weather made those options less appealing. Instead, I packed my work into a few hours in the mornings while my daughter entertained herself with YouTube. I then focused on teaching her to ride a bike in our driveway, playing spies with walkie-talkies, learning choreography from a “Treat People with Kindness” video, and competing in our homemade version of the Netflix baking show “Sugar Rush,” where we whip up random foods inspired by random themes (like sleepovers!). This was followed by a lengthy cleanup.
Some of that may sound delightful. But after 13 months of being my child’s primary playmate, this forced fun nearly pushed me over the edge. I attempted to limit my social media scrolling, trying to bypass images of friends traveling, hugging family, or gathering in groups. When one caught my eye, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that perhaps they were all fully vaccinated, even if that seemed unlikely. Still, I was happy for them; they deserved a break.
But that feeling can’t last forever.
For reasons unknown, the drive-thru line at the donut shop moved at a snail’s pace, and we waited for 25 minutes before it was finally our turn. As I approached the window, my daughter exclaimed from the backseat, “Mom, he’s not wearing a mask!” Surely, she was mistaken, I thought.
Nope.
When I reached the drive-thru window, the young employee handed over our donut, smiled, and wished us a nice day. My daughter was right: he wasn’t wearing a mask. Not even a strap hanging from his ear. I was taken aback— I hadn’t seen a stranger’s smile up close in months. Unsure of how to respond, I grabbed the donut bag, sped off, and tossed it into the front seat, telling my daughter she couldn’t eat it.
While I know that surfaces aren’t a major source of transmission, my anger was palpable — I had just been confronted with a toothy smile, and I wanted her to understand that this was unacceptable.
We then drove another 15 minutes back toward our local donut shop without a drive-thru, dodging indoor diners, to get her donut (without sprinkles, of course).
There has been plenty to be upset about in recent months, and I have always found it frustrating when people disregard COVID precautions. But now, in this stage of the pandemic, anyone’s nonchalant attitude sends me into a fit of rage. I’ve been stewing over that drive-thru incident for days.
I understand why people are eager to disregard the guidelines — truly, I do. But we are so close to overcoming this. SO CLOSE! Every unvaccinated individual who tosses aside their mask, travels without quarantining, or invites friends over because they feel lonely makes it more challenging for those of us who are still trying to be careful. I long to do those things too, but because they’re not, I have to wait even longer. It feels like I’m stuck in that drive-thru line, watching as others jump ahead while I remain stationary.
According to the New York Times, my area is categorized as “very high risk” for COVID-19 exposure (with hospitalizations up 42%), suggesting we should avoid nonessential travel. Over the five days my child was off school, more than 4,000 Americans died from COVID. And have you heard about the situation in Michigan?
I reached out to others who are also striving to take COVID seriously, and they share my intense frustration with those who break the rules. One unvaccinated parent who spent her spring break at home mentioned that some of her colleagues recently traveled to Jamaica and England. “Have you screamed recently?” she asked. When I told her my child is always around, she suggested I lock myself in the car. “It might take a few tries to let it go,” she added.
I’ll give that a shot. In the meantime, I hope everyone enjoyed their spring break. If you traveled somewhere exciting and aren’t vaccinated, please spare me the details.
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Summary
This article recounts a frustrating drive-thru experience during a pandemic, highlighting the emotional struggles of a parent trying to maintain normalcy for their child. It reflects on feelings of anger towards those who disregard health guidelines, emphasizing the ongoing challenges faced by families still committed to safety during these uncertain times.