Hope in the Time of COVID

 A flock of Western Bluebirds has been stopping by the birdbath the past few early mornings even during the bitter cold.  The robins come shortly after; arguing and splashing in the water as they bathe. I refill the bath and then it's the smaller brown birds' turn to sit in a circle on the edges of the bath like a bunch of middle school girls talking and giggling at recess.  These avian visitors  remind me the world is still turning no matter what happens in Washington or my state capitol.  

I'm coming up on a year in quarantine.  Every purse and jacket has a mask tucked in the pocket. There are masks on the table by the front door, in the car, and hanging in the laundry room. I haven't been to the community swimming pool or the grocery store since last March. I haven't bought new clothes, make up or shoes. Although...I got a coupon from my favorite shoe store for the upcoming sandal sale and was excited until I reorganized my shoe rack and saw the sandals I bought last season still in their boxes. 

Mostly everything I do is on line now. Work, church, exercise, family dinner.  

I haven't seen my daughter or my sister since last January. I miss hugging them.

Threat assessment is the first step for any suggested outing. The checklist is reviewed: 

Is the trip necessary? Can an appointment be made? Can whatever it is be gotten through the drive-thru? Do I have to go into the store?  If I do, how many people will be there? Can they be avoided?  Is there curbside delivery?

My hands are so chapped from the everlasting washing and sanitizing I had to take my wedding band off.  I keep trying different creams to stop the itching and cracking. There's a whole array of bottles of hand lotion by every sink in the house. 

It's exhausting, yes, but much better to go through this than getting COVID-19. In many ways the anxiety is worse now than at the start of the pandemic. Without the vaccines I got angry and frustrated with those who refuse to give a thought to other people and instead loudly proclaim their "right" to infringe on my "right" not to get sick. Why, I would rage at the heavens, won't they do this one little thing that will save all of us?

With the vaccines came hope but now I don't want to be one of those people who die right before the end of  the plague.  I still have rage but it seems most people are cautious and my news feed is not filled with stories of people screaming at each other in the grocery store. 

I've learned that connections are important to me.  I sent out a hundred Christmas cards this year.  I delight in sending e-cards to family and friends to mark holidays and getting answers back. I check in with past work colleagues and neighbors.  The cards I received all echoed the same wish: we hope we can see each other in person.  Keep the faith. We will.