Masks are the most depressing fashion accessory of 2020. In March, when it became clear that we were all going to be wearing them for the foreseeable future, I sewed a few for my kids and me. They were functional if not incredibly well-crafted.

Our first few adventures wearing my projects were awkward. We tentatively masked up and headed out. The boys rode their scooters, and I walked briskly along with them for a short trip around the block. Anxiety crushed my chest. Even in the cool spring air, the mask felt hot, uncomfortable, foreign. I’d intended for us to be out for a half-hour, but I cut it short and sighed with relief when we returned home.

I found myself making excuses to stay in. Cold and rainy days were a relief. I knew the fresh air and sunshine were healthy, but I was afraid. I was worried about the invisible enemies that lurked outside. I was scared my kids would see that fear.

Not long after, my mother started sewing masks for us. She's a much more talented seamstress than I am (which frankly is faint praise), and since her typically active social life was limited due to the pandemic, she had time on her hands.

She crafted various patterns for my boys and me. Her masks were made from cute fabrics with soft, T-shirt linings, each custom-sized for us, and sent them from Florida with cheery handwritten notes and silly snake drawings for the kids. Grandmas are the best.

The weather got warmer, and I knew I couldn't hide inside forever, as safe as that felt.

So we donned these masks and faced the world again.

I am still worried that we’ll never go to another Cubs game as a family. That my boys will never know the camaraderie of teammates’ horseplay on a bench or a travel game school bus. But instead of giving in to those fears, I wear a mask made from baseball-printed fabric. I run and play with my kids, trying to give them all the fun I can. We play countless innings of baseball, and they are joyous.

I’m still worried that Chicago beaches and our favorite Park District pool will be forever off-limits. That we'll never do another beach vacation with my siblings and their kids. But instead, I don a pastel-colored mask covered with cartoon monkeys for bird watching trips and nature walks. We love the meadows and native flowers we find. We planted a wild and rambling butterfly garden at home where zinnias explode with color, and sunflowers attract fat, ambling bees.

I’m still worried that I’ve forgotten how to talk to adults who are not my husband. I wonder if we will go to restaurants or bars for casual cocktails and appetizers again. I miss dining adventures and the anticipation of seeing what new chefs create. Will those establishments survive? I have a red and gray patterned mask that I consider my dress-up option. I wear it out to meet other moms for socially-distanced meetups on rooftops and in parks. I lug a camp chair to these gatherings and cherish this time with friends. We are all freshly-bathed and wearing makeup for a change, sipping wine or hard seltzer from a safe distance. We laugh together, and it feels almost normal.

My kids have adapted to life behind their masks with typical boyish acceptance. It's part of our routine now, and they rarely complain. We are all adjusting to this new accessory. Sometimes I forget and try to sip my coffee through it when we’re out for a walk. Life goes on.

Even though we have become used to our masked adventures, the fears are real. As are the challenges. None of this is easy, but we will get through and find new ways to be together until we can really be together again.

I’ll keep a brave face, even if it’s behind a mask.

This piece also appeared in the September 2020 Issue of Fete Lifestyle Magazine.