Where Do We Go From Here?

Letter from the Editor as published in the March 2021 issue

We’re ticking up to the one year mark of living beneath the direct shadow of a global pandemic. We were so naive, back in those early days of 2020, thinking it would pass us over in a week or two. There was a real sense of solidarity: people banging pots for healthcare workers, online concerts, handmade thank you posters. Gas dropped to a price I hadn’t seen since I was a child, everyone made bread, the world slowed down to try and heal itself.

But weeks turned to months, and now here we are, far removed from those first days, missing our family and friends, tired of Zoom meetings, handmade signs sun-bleached and drooping, gas back to its greedy pre-Covid rates.

I don’t know what any of it means. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know how to hold on to dreams of expansion and a brick and mortar location. I’m not sure my jeans will fit when the world finally opens up, and my weird pandemic-life sleeping patterns are sure to wreak havoc when I’m actually expected to show up at my day-job in person again.

The truth is, I’m afraid to return to “normal”. Normal has never been what I wanted from the world. I like the me that’s revealing herself through this time; the me that’s getting clarity around who I am and what I want and figuring out how I can share that with the world.

I want the slower pace. I want the space to accomplish what a commute robs from me. I want it to mean something that I haven’t bought a single piece of clothing in an entire year because I finally understand the word ‘essential’. I want to write books. I want to expand this platform to welcome in new faces. I want to be loud. I want to continue beginning my mornings with a slow cup of hot coffee and a time of reflection, not rushed by having to be somewhere. I want to be authentic. I want to be goofy. I want to make art. I want to sing in the kitchen and make my children spit out their food when I tell a good joke. I want happiness that isn’t about success or legacy. I want happiness that is about this very moment.

I don’t know where you’re at. I don’t know your circumstance or your preferences, but my hope for you is that this has been a time of great value—that you’ve found moments to appreciate the simple things, that a new creativity has been sparked in you that you’re ready to unleash upon the world.

I hope the delivery of this humble little magazine has brought a glimmer of joy to your life. The fact that people are trusting me with their work and allowing me to share it across Canada still blows my mind. I feel so unworthy of the task, but so very grateful. Thank you for continuing to show up. That’s what it takes to sustain a relationship: showing up.

So cheers to making bread, cheap gas, and showing up! As long as one of those things stays consistent, we’re going to be a-okay.

Alanna Rusnak

     Editor in Chief, Blank Spaces