I bought myself an anniversary gift.

Not your typical anniversary, although my husband and I just celebrated our 11th. In honor of that momentous occasion, we purchased a deep freezer for the basement, proving beyond a doubt that we have moved into the major appliances phase of our love.

This week marks a full year of the pandemic. For me, it started on March 15. Beware the Ides of March, indeed.

I'd read about it this virus thing, talked about it with a friend over lunch at her home the previous Friday, but it didn't really hit home. I felt late to the game: When a dear friend cried at school one morning in fear of the lurking pandemic, I consoled her, but the reality of the situation to sink in. We received word that my boys' school would close the next Tuesday (with an optional day of school on Monday, which we would skip) due to this Virus thing. What. Was. Happening.

I went online, and my anxiety level ratcheted up. An elderly neighbor passed away the previous week, and her memorial service was scheduled for Sunday afternoon. With new pandemic research fresh in my mind, I felt a wave of fear and nausea wash over me at the idea of going to a funeral home full of strangers. I emailed my regrets and began planning for what I thought would be a few weeks – a month at most – of homeschooling and lockdown life. I ordered groceries and some cleaning supplies from Amazon. I sent my husband out for booze. I felt worried but ready.

Turns out, I was not ready.

We’ve all gone through phases of optimism and gloom in the past 12 months. I’ve had the privilege and burden of spending a lot more time with my family, and maybe the toughest of all, with my deepest fears.

Every year I make a calendar full of family photos each month. Pictures from last February document a dinner out with friends, donuts sampling all over town, an overnight sleepover with a favorite family at the Field Museum. Living life without a second thought. When I flipped the month over to March, the photos show a sharp shift in content: No friends, no sleepovers, nothing but us at home.

As I turned the calendar, I thought about how I might commemorate this past year. I don't want to forget it, because it's an important time in our lives, but obviously, it's not an experience I ever hope to repeat.

I saw a lovely necklace on Instagram: A thin silver chain held a delicate purple macaron pendant next to a sparkling monogram. Created by local artist Diana Peters, the piece of jewelry spoke to me. Macarons are my favorite cookie: They are tricky to make, so delicious, and they never last long. And purple is my signature color.

I wanted a reminder of this crazy year. I wanted it to be a symbol of joy and challenges and the things that make life worth living. Something beautiful, precious, and unique. It was perfect.

I ordered the necklace and when it arrived, I tucked it away until this week, my ‘official’ pandemic anniversary.

In the last year, my boys and I have grown closer than ever, and they have demonstrated amazing resiliency and independence. My husband has proven what a solid, funny, patient, sweet man he is, and I could never have gotten through this without him. I have missed my family and hope I never take for granted how important our time is together. I never mastered French or wrote that novel, or even finished the Christmas stockings I started 9 years ago. Somehow all I didn’t do doesn’t matter. It’s all about what we’re all going to do, together, hopefully soon.

I put the necklace on this morning, and it made me smile. The sun is out today, and we made it this far, and that’s worth celebrating.