Living the Unexpected

Photo by Dario Veronesi on Unsplash

Part of me didn't want to post anything on here about Covid-19. Mainly because it feels like it has infected the smallest and quietest parts of our lives, and I didn't want to give it any more airtime.

But it's the elephant in the room. It's the thing we can't ignore. It's the one thing I'm sick of talking about; and yet it's the only thing I am really talking about.

Checking the news apps a million times a day; speculating on the what ifs and the maybes. Trying to compartmentalise it into a time zone. It will be over in four weeks, it'll be done by the summer... maybe... maybe... maybe.

As it stands today, the disappointments are small.

The kids schools closing; necessary from a health standpoint, but reinforcing all the longforgotten reasons why I DID NOT choose to be a teacher.

Not being able to buy toilet paper; and having to actually drive to the supermarkets because everyone wants a home delivery slot.

The cancellation of long awaited holidays to Rome (hence the picture) and Florida.

The feeling of suspended animation. Like watching the tsunami rolling towards you, and having no idea whether you can do anything to help yourself, to help others; or whether the little you can do will be enough.

Nobody I know is sick yet. I don't know anyone who has actually been diagnosed with Covid-19.

I don't know anyone currently occupying an intensive care bed; I don't know anyone who has died.

Yet.

We are doing what we can, we are trying to carry on. All the while standing at the precipice, waiting for the next move from an invisible force who seems to hold all the cards.

I move between cracking jokes; telling myself the things  I want to believe; and staring into space, an iron fist around my heart.

My fingers are firmly crossed.