Planning even with a cloud is an act of hope, an act of resurrection, an act of resistance. Sure, things might need to change, but we look ahead anyway. How can we not?

Because you know what takes up lots of energy but is never ever added to our to-do lists? Existential fear and anxiety. And those are taking up WAY more emotional and mental energy than it might seem. We rarely account for them, even though they're playing a huge part in most of our lives right now.

So we told the kids, "We don't know exactly when he'll be home, but it won't be soon. It might be around Halloween, but we always know plans can change." Sure, it ended up being before then, but we knew that being surprised at an early date was better than them planning on May then being disappointed. Instead of answering that question of "When will it be over?" incessantly, we focused on living our lives in our temporary-new-normal, for however long "temporary" would be.

Sometimes, when we know that we're embarking on long-term trauma - especially these particularly uncertain ones - we have to crash. Maybe it doesn't look like Oreos for you, maybe it's something else. But for me, in order to gear up for the next round, I have to let down for a little while.