The weather is cooling. The days are getting shorter.
And the coronavirus is on us like a plague of locusts passing through a cornfield.
Gone are the balmy evenings when one could invite friends over, congregate outdoors, everyone practicing safe distancing, masked when in close proximity to others and eating the food and drink they provisioned themselves (weird in itself).
Even the space heaters we bought won’t fight off the onslaught of bitter temperatures to come.
Being indoors feels less like shelter from the elements and more like solitary confinement from family and friends.
Our two grown sons haven’t stepped foot in our house since March for fear of transmitting COVID to us, who they consider their vulnerable, high-risk elderly parents. It’s flattering that they would be so conscientious. Yet we want to see and hug them, and them us.
We’ll get through this, but for the moment we’re all victims of this pandemic.
I just wish everyone would start donning masks in public so we can get back to something that resembles normal sooner.
Wearing or not wearing a mask is not a political statement. It’s got nothing to do with being tread on. Oh, contraire. What good is “freedom” if you’re dead.
Wearing a mask signals respect for the health of others as well as oneself. It’s not the PC thing to do. It’s the right thing to do. More so, it’s the necessary thing to do until we get this virus under control via the vaccine they keep promising us.
In the meantime, my wife and I will stick close to home. Grocery shop at off hours. Try to watch less toxic cable TV and read more good books. “Visit” people via Zoom. And keep a safe distance from unmasked folks when taking our walks.
My old six-string guitar has been leaning up against the wall for quite a while. I might pick it up and start strumming again. Hell, there’s no one around to hear my singing…Sweeeeet Car-o-line….la, la, la…..
Bring on winter.