A Veil for All Seasons

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When I attended my ten-year college reunion last summer, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Since relocating all the way across the country to the West Coast, I hadn’t seen so many friends who had once been dear in nearly a decade. Even the campus’s antique lampposts and stately brick towers I had known so well at first seemed, again, strangers.

But humans have a way of adapting to things, and it didn’t take long for me to step right back into the rhythm of all I had forgotten. I laughed with my former tennis teammates as we hit a couple of balls on the sizzling hard courts where we used to compete. I reminisced about music and mayhem with members of my blues-focused a cappella group. Even the simple act of eating breakfast in one of the dorm dining halls brought back a cascade of fond memories I’d assumed were long deleted.

In addition to fresh anecdotes and old friendships renewed, I packed one additional memento in my suitcase for the flight home: a stretchy infinity-style bandana. It was bright green— my graduating class’s special color—and I acquired it as part of the reunion fun. I had dutifully wrapped the bandana around my wrist and cheered with pride during the alumnae parade, but once I returned home, I tucked it away in my closet, unsure what occasion would ever prompt me to wear it again.

Nine months later, the pandemic arrived in Washington state. On the first day of quarantine, I, like so many others, felt compelled to scuttle to the nearest grocery store for emergency supplies. The only problem was, I didn’t own any masks or face coverings. The only way I could safely venture outside and prepare my household was to check every little drawer and box for something, anything with which I could make do.

Necessity births invention, and humans have a way of adapting to things. After fifteen minutes of digging, I emerged with a fistful of stretchy neon green. Finally, I’d found a use for my class bandana.

Title: A Veil for All Seasons