The Loss of Innocence
By: Hannah-Louise Dunne
Tags: Reflections, 2020, New Year, Culture, Mindfulness

What will we bring with us from 2020?

2020: A Loss of Innocence?

A year like no other. Unprecedented. Sort of monotonous? We’ve heard it all. Never before had we felt like we had so much time to do, well, so little. Or felt as if we were under quite so much pressure to use all that supposed free time to change, to grow, to acquire helpful new skills.

In my case, my new-found skills are ones I don’t care too much for. The ability to scenario-plan all the ways you could potentially infect your nearest and dearest in a bid to manage all the various risks involved in 2020’s small permitted social occasions, of clocking up an unfathomable amount of on-camera time, of acquiring the new-found ability to scrutinise every inch of my face in high-definition and of becoming uncomfortably familiar with every inch of our cosy (read small and built to pass in and out of) city-centre apartment.

Daily signs of the changes brought about to manage Covid have become commonplace (and necessary).

Away from the screen, 2020 brought new unexpected scenes sharply into focus. Instead of discovering new cities or destinations, the familiar transformed before our eyes until we found ourselves walking along empty city-streets in the wake of the first lockdown, as we wondered how long it may last. (The summer, surely, some of us thought then) Or as winter drew in, a more eerie atmosphere accompanied walking around Dublin’s empty thoroughfares, as we rattled by empty shopfronts, the odd fellow masked walker and darkened restaurants.

There have been happy moments too, where we found new ways to snatch time together. Or in our case, to plan a new version of our wedding in two months to gather the permitted number of guests together in September to bear witness and celebrate as we tied the knot. To meet my sister’s blossoming pregnant bump — at last! — ahead of the arrival of our new favourite human, Eleanor, to celebrate a new job, to toast another sister’s engagement, and another’s homecoming.

Or the sunny days that accompanied the early days of lockdown, offering many of us the chance to step outside and switch off, the discovery of new favourite holiday spots around Ireland or the embrace of the cold Irish sea for swimming newcomers.

But above all, 2020 to me represents a sort of loss of innocence for most of us. A reminder that many of the comforts and benefits of modern life are not always guaranteed. That in fact, many of the perks of life in the 21st Century are a gift, brought into being by generations before us, who brought about scientific progress, great healthcare and the opening up of society — evidenced again in the powerful global collaboration that has brought about the hugely hopeful and optimistic development of a Covid-19 vaccine. Our worlds this year have felt smaller as we’ve retreated indoors, reduced social circles, lost the art of the casual meet-cute or small talk and physically put distance between ourselves and the wider world on bracing daily walks. And for people who have experienced loss of any sort this year, it’s been a truly annus horribilis.

And what of our awakening. When we look back, what will we bring with us from 2020? (Not Covid I hear you say — and not the overuse of unprecedented or ‘you’re on mute’ either). Perhaps we’ll emerge as stronger more resilient versions of ourselves. Although, the thought of that makes me personally feel fatigued already.

If we could choose, I’d aim for holding on to the sense of wonder and sheer joy we’ve tasted at moments this year, to celebrate and appreciate the re-awakening, when we finally do get to re-experience what we loved, from dancing until dawn, meeting friends and family without the constant sense of doom or travelling again.

Of appreciation for the good things, and there are many, in our daily lives.

Never again, I pledge, to take the joy of a bloody brilliant night out for granted. Here’s to a good time, sometime, in the future.