Before we started getting sick, we had TIME — time to meet, to talk and gather, to sing, to cheer and to roar. The minutes in the hour, the days in the week, were luxuries no one could steal from us. We had time for everything, and then suddenly we had time for nothing — nothing except the virus. How quickly the coronavirus mocked our assumptions and challenged our simplest routines. A trip to the market or a drive to drop off the kids at school suddenly brought the specter of unfamiliar peril. It left some of us struggling to breathe, others trying to help, and most just trying to keep social distance. No past, no future — all we had was the unsettling present. Cities fell quiet. We stared out windows and measured our lives in modest increments. Weddings were postponed, holidays disappeared. Politicians stood beside doctors. They admonished. They consoled. But the virus, lifted by the slightest breeze, flouted their words. We grew confused and divided. While one neighborhood faithfully donned masks, protesters in another decried their use. Two Americas were on stark display. For some, caution meant repression. For others, it was a sign of respect. We became armchair experts in economics and public health, and we argued about everything…everything! A “non-essential class” emerged, buoyed by an “essential class” who rang doorbells with deliveries, stocked shelves with food, carried our mail, and attended to the sick and dying. We searched for words to describe this moment, but the suffering was too grim to be scripted. Many lost all that they had. Stay-at-home orders were issued in March. By the end of April, more than 30 million Americans had filed for unemployment, 23 million were at risk for evictions, and the numbers kept rising. As spring turned to summer, summer sparked historic heat, fires, smog, and an endless succession of hurricanes and typhoons that battered our weary coasts. Centuries of neglect, years of indifference had caught up with us. Once unable to imagine a warming climate, we now worried that we had squandered the time when we had it and were left to crank up the AC or take to higher ground. Racial injustice surfaced and forced us to change our thinking and our conduct. Yes, all lives matter, but Black Lives Matter more than ever. We sought diversion (as we do so well). The Lakers and Dodgers helped. But the pandemic was relentless. By November, the United States had counted more than 16 million coronavirus cases, over 290,000 deaths, and infections were surging. In addition to this terrible accounting, the virus exploited our weaknesses. Inadequate healthcare, inadequate housing, inadequate working conditions, that left Black, brown and Indigenous communities in mourning. For every white person who died of COVID-19, people of color buried three or more. The tragedy was clear. Soon, however, the national election was upon us, and as the darkest winter drew near, nearly 160 million found their way through the gloom. They mailed their ballots. They stood in long lines. They voted. They confirmed their faith in the promise of a more perfect union. When the counting was over, the most important election in our history was declared the most secure. And so with the new year, and a new administration, we set a new course for America. After four years of derision and marginalization, science is now vindicated. Laboratories found answers in less than 11 months to questions that often take years of virus study, and we are poised to benefit from that scientific research and commitment. With a vaccine, TIME now becomes so much more. In days, weeks and months, it measures how long since most of us last embraced our family, laughed with friends, sang in choirs, or cheered our teams. And one day it will mark our reunions. One day very soon. This year has been a 12-month stress test. It interrupted and upended our world. One day we will look back on this year and wonder how we ever survived. But we did! Welcome 2021, thank God you’re finally here!

Lloyd Segal