A year ago today, I started working remotely full time. That day, I walked into the office and started my morning routine; drop off the laptop at the desk, wander into the kitchen to put away my lunch and fill my water bottle, then back to the desk to setup the laptop, and start with the business of the day.

Little did I know, I’d be packing it all right back up within minutes.

The email stated that management had decided to err on the side of caution, and was sending everyone home to work remotely for two weeks.

The two weeks became a month.

The month stretch out to three.

By June, it was very much a “play it by ear” situation. I don’t think anyone realized how quickly Covid-19 would spread. When I read the news that there were 10,000 deaths attributed to the illness, it was sobering.

As I type this, we’re sitting at just over 530K deaths. At this point, I’m nearly numb. The 10K was followed by the 50K, and then 100. And it just kept getting worse.

Thankfully, there’s a vaccine. A few, actually. And they’re slamming people through the process. The government stated they were hoping to have everyone vaccinated by the end of July. Now it’s been moved up to the end of May. Something like 2 million people are being vaccinated a day.

I don’t want to consider what it might’ve been like if he had been re-elected.

I consider myself lucky, given that I’m able to work remotely full-time. Because of this, and the generosity of a very good friend, I was able to emerge from the gray walls and tiny window of my basement, and setup house on the shores of Lake Winnipesauke. The tiny basement window has been replaced by nearly floor to ceiling windows that look out at the currently frozen lake. I spend the days pretending to work while staring out at that frozen landscape, watching snowmobiles and ATVs trundle across the ice. While my friend’s office -- which I’m working out of -- is in his basement, the basement itself is warm and inviting, full of natural light. Pretty much the whole north wall of his house is windows, facing the lake.

It’s made for a very nice change.

There’s no hard timeline for when I’m going back to my own house. Probably when I get to missing the wife, or, fingers crossed, I get a notification that my vaccination appointment has been set. Of those two reasons, I imagine the latter will happen much later. I’m in the C class, which they haven’t even started scheduling for.

But there’s a vaccine. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. There’s (hopefully) a summer of gatherings with friends and good times ahead.

There’s hope.