Anticipation

Zara blazer (similar)
Reformation tank
Zara shorts (similar)
Aldo sandals
Massimo Dutti handbag (similar)
RayBan sunglasses
Mejuri bracelet (c/o) (similar)
Mango earrings
Location: The Manitoba Legislature – Winnipeg, Manitoba

As a planner, there is almost nothing that brings me more joy than the anticipation of an event or moment in life that I’ve meticulously thought through from start to finish. I’ve never been what anyone would call spontaneous, but I admit that my inclination to plan increases with every passing year. If I’m honest, I think that has a lot to do with the fact that I crave anticipation. Life when I was growing up was full of it – rife with waiting, wishing and no guarantee of gratification. The internet robbed us of much of that. And while I love receiving my online orders from shops that should not be accessible to me by virtue of my geographic location as much, if not more, than anyone else, I miss the novelty of uncertainty. And the excitement of long-awaited experiences finally coming to fruition.

Thus, I make plans. I research and look forward to special occasions, especially holidays. By this time in 2020, I fully expected to be putting the final touches on my plans for our tenth anniversary trip. We were planning for two weeks in Spain, travelling between Madrid, Valencia and Toledo. (That plan might have changed before we made an official booking, but that’s almost half the fun.) We do everything in advance, thereby extending the excitement of anticipation. So I would have been spending my evenings adding places to our holiday Google Map, planning outfits and writing our itinerary for each day of our trip.

…instead, I’m taking long walks and working my way through my fourth Jane Austen novel in as many weeks. That isn’t the worst way to spend time, I admit. In fact, in an average week, once upon a time, I would have enjoyed spending an evening that way. But just one, maybe two. The problem is that for the most part, that’s every evening now – and will be for the foreseeable future. There is nothing to look forward to, no anticipation except of more bad news. And while, in many ways, I enjoy waiting for good things to come along, I enjoy it because I know they are coming, down to the date.

The past five months have changed my perspective considerably.

We know, or at least we think we know, that we’ll get a normal life back some day. But it’s impossible to know when. There is no date to count down to, no end in sight and thus, no plans to make. (It’s bad enough living through a pandemic, but being robbed of my favourite activity was just adding insult to injury.) The future, suddenly, is inaccessible. And there is little excitement in waiting for it to arrive. In these circumstances, anticipation has lost its novelty for me… and the prospect of reading yet another Jane Austen book has, too.

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