Covid 19

COVID-19 is digital journal, shared with family and friends. 100 days of check-in, activities for
toddlers, and phos to entertain. A journal that is an easy check mark when getting out of bed is an
event. It’s a lifeline to family and her parents. It’s n COVID.
COVID is missed birthdays. The big ones, the little ones, the milestones. Instead of hugs and cheers,
it’s ecards and Drizzly deliveries. It’s “We will celebrate twice as much” the first year and just “I love
you” the second.
COVID is a clear line. 4 weeks, 4 months? Your paychecks clear as your friends cry they can’t afford
their child’s tuition and their savings is running low. It’s “I know. I’m so sorry. This will be over
soon.” But the line divides.
COVID is walking around the block as a family. In strollers, singing baby songs. Running and
obsessively filming in slow mion and time lapse and pretending we have any control over time. It’s
“That’s so cool. Again, Mommy!”
COVID is recognizing teachers. It’s “they are doing the impossible. I am so impressed.” but teachers
need support, n praise.
COVID is eating like garbage and eling self-hatred as your newsfeed is ll of workouts and glow
ups. It’s “use the lockdown to get fit” when you feel like you can’t even survive.
COVID is walks around the block and seeing your neighbors having people over for Easter. From the
number of cars parked, ls of people. It’s “Are we the only ones taking this seriously?” day aer day
aer day.
COVID is the birth of Facebook scientists and Twitter doctors. It’s “Why am I still reading this shit?”
and then forwarding it to your husband just to hear his snarky remark.
COVID is a Pelon. Because you can’t go to the gym and it’s supposed to be amazing. It’s “Why
don’t you take a class? I’ll watch the kids.”
COVID is Cosmic Yoga. A brilliant British woman who shares engaging stories and helps your kids
move. It’s “Let’s come into tree pose” and your kids actually listening.
COVID is missing your cousin’s wedding. It’s a backyard Zoom viewing that is bombed by hackers.
It’s “Holy shit! That’s porn” and trying to get the kids away from the screen.
COVID is the outing of racists on Facebook and Twitter. It’s “N all black people have it that bad!”
and ls of unfollowing. And blocking.
COVID is teaching as an extreme sport. It’s “I know you have a class that period but I need you to
cover this class too” and apologizing to students over and over and over again.
COVID is Elections. It’s “Why, dear God, do we need to have an election right now?”
COVID is a group te with friends from college who are unfiltered and timely. It’s “John King’s
mental math makes me horny” and the GIFs that follow.
COVID is cutting Thanksgiving down under 10 people. It’s “I’m so sorry. We are all being cautious
this year...” and being hung up on.
COVID is a birthday drive-by. Honking horns and floating balloons out the window. Stopping to drop
a gi and handmade cards. It’s “We can’t get out of the car because we had an exposure.”
COVID is cancelling Christmas because of an exposure.
COVID is getting a vaccine. The best birthday gi, one of the first vaccinated in the state. It’s “You
know, you shouldn’t brag that you’ve vaccinated” and spending hours getting appointments for your
parents.
COVID getting a dog. An excited, tiny, hairy third child. Perfect timing because you have nhing but
time. It’s “What is he eating?” a thousand times a day.
COVID is a new hatred towards teachers. It’s “Why am I even paying my taxes if teachers aren’t
working?”
COVID is walks around the block and seeing ls of construction. Everyone is updating their homes,
getting dumpsters, purging. It’s “Now might be a good time to redo the bathroom”.
COVID is “We have to get the economy back” and wondering if anyone remembers we live in a
society.
COVID is mass transit with anti-maskers during rush hour. It’s “Facui’s email said masks don’t work”
and “This is America, you won’t take away my rights” for 90 excruciating minutes.
COVID is graduating in your basement. It’s “I’m finished with my last class” and a high-five instead
of a tassel.
COVID is having watched every show on every network and every streaming platform and replicated
movie theatre popcorn. It’s “I prefer this actually” but only kind of half-meaning it.
COVID is a second summer. Small vacations, to private rental properties. Feeling hopel that you’re
vaccinated but wiping down everything with Clorox before the kids get out of the car. “It’s this feels
normal. The worst is over” you tell your wife as you dig your feet into the sand.
COVID is a Delta wave. Then the Omicron wave. They are “worse than the first” or “just the common
cold” or “An anagram for ‘Media Control” depending on the network you watch.
COVID is a new job. It’s “Can you send us a headsh for the website so people can see you without
your mask.”
COVID is watching your daughter grow from 14-months to starting the 3-year program at school.
It’s “COVID has been here more than half her life.”
COVID is Thanksgiving. But a small one. It’s asking “Are you lly vaccinated” before eending the
invitation.
COVID is a walk around the block and hearing your neighbor is now a widow and you didn’t even
know. It’s “With COVID it was so hard to let people know” and delayed sympathies and bewildered
looks.
COVID is a phone call when the test is positive. Apologies and tears as your friends offer love. It’s
“You could have gten it from us. No one knows”.
COVID is cancelling Christmas again. It’s “We have a positive case”. Two positive cases. Three
positive cases on Christmas Eve.
COVID is “My Uncle died from COVID” or “Was just a cough and headache for two days.”
COVID is a loss of time. A loss of life lived. A loss of socialization and events that pinpoint moments
of our existence. It’s grappling with the moral stances that make us different from our closest friends
and family. It’s “once in a lifetime”. An inevitable reckoning.