Today, I got out of bed, just like any other day. I had some coffee on the deck, did some yoga, and walked the dog. When we got home, I nagged my 17-year-old until she finally got out of bed. (She does online community college, and its finals week). My husband was at the kitchen table, looking focused and intense. He often chooses to work from home and is lucky to work for a company that utilizes online meeting software. Everything as it should be.
So, why does it feel like I am at the beginning of some Apocalyptic Thriller? Why does the quiet seem so much more ominous? I look at the stack of bills, and under that the taxes, I still need to get around to doing. Should I even bother? Then turning back to my screen, I continue with my workday, trying to ignore the barrage of media reminding us to stay home, wash our hands, people are dying.
I feel the weight of my privilege, heavy on my shoulders. I am thinking of the people that surround me, who’s lives will be changed regardless of getting sick, or this blowing over. The restaurants; forced to close, and even if they were not, who is going? Is my favorite server at my favorite restaurant, okay? I would love to offer food or supplies, but I do not even know his last name.
I think of the arts and recreation teachers I know. Their businesses depending on human interaction to succeed, now forced to shut down, flinging their lives into the unknown.
I also see beauty. I see people reaching out with offers of food and the ability to run errands. I see friends helping others navigate the murky waters of keeping their children learning. I see support for the arts, and artists trapped by uncertainty.
Will we emerge from this time, a stronger, more united society, or will we just fall apart? Time will tell.