The Last Photo
Where were you before the world changed four years ago?
Hey, it’s Alexandra. Welcome to my weekly newsletter where I share my latest reflections on professional development & well-being.
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This week, I share reflections on how:
High stakes reveal where your heart lies
Change reroutes you to where you belong
Photos develop greater meaning over time
☕️ Read time: 2 mins (best with tea or coffee)
I was nursing my coffee on Sunday when a Twitter post brought my scrolling hand to a halt. A friend of mine had shared the caption below in response to a prompt that read “Post the last picture of you before the world changed four years ago.”
Suddenly, I found myself transported back four years (and two weeks) to March 12th, 2020. I was visiting Barcelona with my family as murmurings of COVID began to spread across Europe.
Up until then, the most I’d heard about COVID was that it was in the end stages in China. I was working at Ubisoft HQ and as far as I’d been told, the biggest issue at the time was people complaining the Chinese office was cold because they’d been advised to keep the windows open upon returning.
Our first couple of days in Barcelona had been as sunny and blissful as you would expect. We’d climbed La Sagrada Familia, wandered through Casa Batlló, and strolled along the beach in between fresh, flavourful meals, cocktails, and coffees.
But with each new Instagram story posted, my siblings were getting more and more heat as people replied “What the hell are you doing? You should come home now!”
COVID Hits Europe & North America
By then it was known that Italy had been hit hard by COVID. Amplified by the prevalence of intergenerational housing, the country’s elderly population was more vulnerable and harder to protect.
But all seemed dandy in Spain. See for yourself—here’s a glimpse of our trip until that point:
But then everything changed on March 13th.
If I hadn’t already realized how much influence the US has on the West, I would’ve been in for my first reality check. Trump’s declaration of a national emergency (what he described as “two big words”) acted as a starting pistol for Western countries to declare national emergencies of their own.
By sheer luck, my family and I were boarding our flight back to Paris—where I was living at the time—when it was announced Spain was going into lockdown.
While we were waiting at the airport, our Spanish tour guide from earlier that day messaged us to make sure we got out okay. We thanked him profusely and remarked on the shock of the situation. My heart sank when he added that he didn’t anticipate giving tours anytime soon.
Later that night, as my family and I settled in for dinner at a restaurant near my Paris apartment, our waiter welcomed us to “The Last Supper.” He then informed us France was going into lockdown the following day. Again, by sheer luck, my family was flying out that day.
They almost had me convinced to come back to Montreal with them temporarily until we had a better sense of how things would unfold. But I opted to stay because the six-hour time difference would be a nuisance for work and I didn’t want to make an impulsive decision (which I’m prone to do now and then—I’m a Sagittarius, after all).
Ironically, most of the Canadians and Americans I knew in Paris jumped on flights back to North America amid a wave of panic brought on by news of people wrestling over toilet paper in our home and native lands. My closest American friend (who’d lived in Paris for six years) and I were the only ones in our friend group who stayed.
It made us cognizant of how even though most of us think of places other than our hometown, city, or country as our new home, where you bolt to when the world is in an upheaval reveals where your heart truly lies.
Even though I didn’t bolt at the first sign of a lockdown, I did eventually move back to Montreal a little over two months later. That was me following my heart “home.”
A lot has changed in the past four years and I’ve grown through it all. My professional highlights include finally becoming an entrepreneur and online writer. My personal—and ultimate—highlights though, include becoming an auntie to the sweetest little niece and nephew. I’m grateful to be able to watch them grow up. I would be missing out on so much if I were still across the Atlantic.
The Day Before Lockdown
Below is my last photo “before the world changed four years ago.” It’s from Casa Batlló in Barcelona. I dig it because of the quiet, reflective nature—especially given that, like most tourist attractions, the place was a zoo. I suppose that’s an apt metaphor for my pandemic experience: finding moments of serenity amid the chaos.
On that note, I’d like to turn the mic over to you. You don’t have to post anything but I highly encourage you to scroll through your photos to find the last one taken of you “before the world changed four years ago.”
I guarantee it’ll spark a rollercoaster of realizations—from the blissful existence you were experiencing pre-pandemic to the panic that ensued, and how you’ve flowered through everything since.
Thanks for reading and have a wonder-full week,
P.S. When news of the toilet paper frenzy made its way to Europe, my brother panned the toilet paper aisle of my Parisian grocery store in his Instagram story “just to mess with people.” Sure enough, people wrote back “WHERE ARE YOU?!” Someone even joked he should cart some back to Canada to “sell on the black market.” (I was at a loss for words when my European friends asked me to explain the hysteria.)
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☕️ Let me know if you visit Montreal & we can grab coffee or tea.
I went back to that week and the last photos I took were of the first match San Diego's new football team (soccer). It was one of the few things I was excited about in 2020. I got season tickets. I bought the debut kit. And then after that first match the whole season was put on hold and effectively didn't happen.
In many ways those photos remind me of a dream that died. The team folded last year. We had to move away from California. It was humbling. It reminded me that all the beautiful things I have today have been risen from many dead dreams.
What I remember is my last speaking gig. I was flying home from a keynote in Washington DC (for Johns Hopkins hospital ironically) when the covid news wave broke. All the gigs that I had booked for the rest of the year got cancelled from my calendar within a few weeks of March 13th. My last picture would have been happily speaking to that group with a smile on my face. Pictures of my bank account plummeting for the next 2 years were not pretty ones.