Disclaimer: I am not a financial advisor. None of this is financial advice. I encourage you to do your own research.

“Folks, I’ve declared a state of emergency in the province of Ontario…” flanked by a team of concerned policymakers, our fearless premier of Ontario solemnly announced through our television that he was taking measures to “stop the spread” of the respiratory virus Covid-19. For two weeks businesses, libraries, childcare centers, bars and restaurants would shutter. Essential businesses like grocery and liquor stores would stay open. Across the room my laptop made a ‘woosh’ sound with the arrival of a company-wide email alerting us that all offices would be closed until further notice.

“This sounds serious,” Victor said. “They closed our office to the public, and the gym. I guess I could work out… here?”

We looked around our cozy one-bedroom apartment. Always a health nut, Victor was known to hit the gym 5 days a week, often using the bench press and squat rack. Would he be able to maintain his muscle mass on planks and pushups alone?

“We can go for some nice walks in the park,” I offered, picking up the remote to switch channels.

“All playgrounds, sports fields, picnic areas and other park amenities will be closed and taped off, fences locked!” the authoritative words scrolled along the bottom of the screen.

“Crap,” I said.

“Maybe we should buy a skipping rope,” Victor suggested. “And pick up some wine and groceries before things get crazy.”

I knew what he was alluding to. While Covid-19 had crept up on us slowly, things had really escalated in the past few weeks. The World Health Organization had declared the Coronavirus a pandemic. Global stock markets were crashing lower every day. And this past weekend my Mom had urged me to go to Loblaws immediately, having just returned herself.

“The chickens are literally flying off the shelves!” she had warned. By the time I got to the grocery store many of the aisles were already stark white, toilet paper now a coveted luxury.

“Okay but we’re going to have to hold our breath,” I said, “and stay six feet away from everyone. Oh, and Lysol our phones when we get home…”

And so began the first phase of what would be a once-in-a-century pandemic. Two weeks became two months. In the long stretch of March to May, the daily grey skies only darkened our fears of the virus.

In the morning I would awake to the sound of Victor’s skipping rope hitting the low ceiling lamp. Over coffee we would review our portfolios, worth far less than the day before. Then it was Teams meeting after Teams meeting so my corporate overlords could assure me they were “here” for me but that I was still expected to “deliver,” more than ever. Then move into the bedroom so Victor could take his meeting at the dining room table. Food became the only thing anyone could control at the time and so, in our tiny kitchen I would whip up comfort dishes like chicken cacciatore, garlic shrimp, pasta and stew. At 5 p.m. we would crack open a juicy cabernet and read together on the couch, dust motes dancing in the evening spring sun.

After 13 years together and three years of marriage, this was the first time Victor and I were actually living together, day after day. No flying home from Winnipeg after a week together, no driving back to Toronto after a weekend in Hamilton. With both our offices closed and government orders to stay in our “social bubble”, we were prohibited from seeing our families in Toronto. And so we made the best of it, together. That little peach-colored apartment became my universe, Victor my best friend, my protector, the one who felt my forehead in the middle of the night when I was certain that this time, I really had been hit with the virus. The one who assured me sleepily, that everything would be okay.

As the months rolled by, with every paycheque we both continued to invest what we could into the Canadian Couch Potato portfolio. I don’t know where we got the confidence to keep from selling our entire portfolio and hiding our cash under our mattress. Maybe it was the fact that while the market had dropped significantly, it began to show early signs of recovery. Maybe it was the fact that we both had jobs in an economy where so many people had lost theirs. Maybe it was because, other than food and booze, there was literally nothing else that we could spend our disposable income on so why not throw it into the stock market? Or maybe it was because we had already lost so much that there was no turning back now – we were in this whether we liked it or not. And so we stayed invested, and continued to invest, as the pandemic progressed, and the world continued to spin. Masks became mandatory. Donald Trump mocked Dr. Fauci and Trudeau dyed his hair. George Floyd was killed by a white police officer, spurring global outrage and a series of Black Lives Matter protests. The world continued to spin out of control. And then, one day in May, my little one-bedroom universe came to a halt.

“I got my posting message,” Victor said as he walked through the door after a socially-distanced afternoon at the office.

My heart sank. For the past few months Victor had been a prime candidate for an isolated posting in Goose Bay, a small town out East where people commute to work on snowmobiles and the closest Walmart is an hour’s drive.

“Goose Bay?” I asked meekly. I knew I had to respect the needs of the Forces, and support Victor no matter what.

Victor pulled his mask from his ears and shook his head. “North Bay,” he smiled. North Bay, the gateway to the North, a brochure-like town on Lake Nipissing, four hours’ drive north of Toronto with its own airport, hiking trails and bike paths. Victor walked over, hugged me and held my face in his hands. Those strong, loving hands that I had held in mine for so many years, and most recently, for so many months of uncertainty.

“Will my angel think about coming with me?” he asked. “Because if you want to stay in Toronto with your family, I totally understand…”

“Shh,” I said, wrapping my arms around Victor’s neck and pulling him close. “Congratulations my love, this is so exciting,” I said, kissing his cheek.

I quickly thought it over. My office would be closed until at least September. Our portfolios were starting to bounce back. I could afford to move up north with Victor even if my company eventually called me back to the office one day. I felt a swell of excitement and fear swirl in my heart, lifting me up until I was standing on top of a mountain, upon the precipice of the unknown. It was the same feeling I had felt when I made the decision to go back to school ten years earlier, a decision that changed me into the person I was now. The same feeling that told me to take the leap back then was urging me to take another leap now. Only this time it wasn’t just about me, it was about Victor too.

“Yes,” I said. “Let’s do it. Let’s move up north together.”

Repeatable steps I took that you can too!

  • The Covid-19 pandemic was a Black Swan event, meaning it was rare and unexpected. There will be new black-swan events in the future. Days, weeks and months where the market plunges 20-30% out of nowhere. Prepare yourself now. Make sure you have enough of an emergency fund on hand so you won’t have to withdraw from your portfolio if the market plunges. And when the market does inevitably plunge, if you are still making a paycheque, continue to invest through the drops. Your future self will thank you. See chapter 13 on Bear Markets for more.
  • Listen to your heart. Not all decisions are about money. After being away from Victor and getting to live with him through Covid, it was important to me that we stay together. I listened to my heart and made the decision to join him in North Bay. I could never have anticipated this opportunity when I first started investing, but luckily my portfolio could support me in my decision. I hope a large, healthy portfolio will make it easy for you to listen to your heart too.