The rewind button

By  Winnie Yu

Along with makeup bags, fanciful footwear and a darling cat, my young 20-something daughters are back in my house. Dirty dishes fill up the dishwasher in a matter of hours. The laundry machines whir almost daily. The recycling bin overflows with empty containers.

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After a slow march toward independence, the coronavirus has forced them to hit the pause button and return to the house where they grew up. Once again, we are under one roof. Annie was on her way to Los Angeles for an internship in the music industry this summer, something she is now doing remotely. Sammy had plans to move out and land a job with a sports team in a far away state. She is now juggling several jobs and hoping that her dreams still have a place in the new normal that is yet to be unveiled. 

Like the rest of the world. I am telecommuting. For me, that has meant a return to my home office, where I spent 15 years splitting my time between being a freelance writer and a stay-at-home mom. 

I must confess that I am not unhappy about this, though the nightly news has brought me to tears more times than I care to count, and I’ve certainly had my share of sleepless nights. If I could erase the pandemic and all its ensuing horrors, I would.   

In the absence of such powers however, I have chosen to focus on the good that has arisen from this situation. In addition to my one-minute commute, I am reveling in the fact that my daughters have not only pressed pause, but the rewind button. 

These days, we find ourselves reliving their youth, with shared cups of coffee instead of diluted apple juice, and viewings of  “American Horror Story” instead of “Good Luck Charlie.” We have resumed nightly dinners, with me doing the cooking again, and them doing the dishes. At night, we make time for board games and evening walks, Wii Fit, and Just Dance. 

My daughters seem to sense that this is an opportunity to recapture their youth. They are watching old favorites like “The Incredibles” and reruns of “Get Smart” that they loved as children. They’ve swapped out rap and pop to listen to “The Cheetah Girls” and the soundtrack for “High School Musical.” Annie has found old movies she and her friends made in middle school. Sammy has discovered the joys of reading Harry Potter. 

Both have dug into the giant baby boxes I made all those years ago, filled with letters I wrote to them on their birthdays and calendars marking their milestones. Both come into my office during the day to share tidbits of their lives, just as they used to do. The stories are no longer about playground antics but about their jobs, friends and what they see on social media. What remains unchanged is the joy I feel just having them close by.   

Don’t get me wrong. We have our share of occasional spats and snarky moments, and the house is certainly messier these days. There is also plenty I miss about our pre-pandemic life. Card games with my elderly mom. Visits from out-of-town family. Sunday morning tennis matches with my partner John and our friends. 

But what a gift it has been to recapture this lost period of life with my daughters, a time that I thought had evaporated for good. What a gift it is to spend so much time with them again, when I thought we’d never have more than a few weeks together over the holidays and in between semesters of college.  

We are told that time marches on, that everything must change, and that all good things must come to an end. Most of the time, those platitudes are true. But what the pandemic has given me is a temporary reprieve from the forward momentum of time and the opportunity to revisit and relive a not-so-long-ago era of my children’s youth. 

For that, I am grateful.