It did feel odd to skip a few weeks of my chronicles, and while I was tempted to continue my weekly count, it felt OK to wait until March turned to April, until spring appeared with some hope amidst a world of vaccines. It seems that almost daily, someone I know has received a dose, or the second dose, or has posted their vaccine card on social media. I chose not to post that selfie, that card, but that doesn't mean I didn't celebrate, exhale, and finally feel a sense that life might somehow be heading towards a different, one that perhaps brings a bit of the familiar back into my life. A gorgeous sunrise a couple of days ago helped me smile at the sky and the possibilities of months of exhales.
This past week marked the end of the two weeks past my second Moderna vaccine, so I am considered fully protected. The week coincided with my spring break, and while I didn't head back to visit my parents and family yet (that will occur in May), and while I didn't go off to a tropical beach or even head to the mountains, I celebrated by doing what I had missed--connecting with people. Sure, I've been seeing some friends for occasional walks, with masks, outdoors, but I haven't had a bite or a beer in person with anyone since October, when the weather started to get too cool and surges and positivity went too high for my comfort level. Like many, it's that connection in person that I've missed, something a Zoom screen or a phone can't quite carry.
Most days lately, I feel hope. Sure, when the CDC director starts talking doom
, I go right there with her, imagining how many months of freedom I might have until my world becomes just the blocks near my home and my days are spent looking outdoors with my pets. But fortunately other news of low risk travel for the vaccinated
moves to the top of my pile, and I remember that this roller coaster of life I (and many others) have been living since the start of the pandemic is not going to cease quickly. Too much is unknown. Much is uncertain. But for now, spring in Denver has brought warm temps in the 60s and 70s, and my hammock has taken up residence again in the backyard.
And in this 14th month, we wait and see what transpires in the coming months. Will we reach herd immunity in the US? Will the vaccine be made available to the entire world? How will immunity fare in four months, six months, a year? Most days, I honestly don't think about any of that. Sure, fear still sometimes consumes me. Sometimes, I can only dip my toe in the cold pool rather than jump in and acclimate. But, other days, I'm reminded of life, and breathe in joy when I meet one of my best friends for a stroll, which we've been doing throughout the pandemic, but this time, we don't wear masks. This time, we hug when we see each other--happy tears. This time, we end our walk with lunch and a beer outside, talking and watching our mouths move into smiles. This time, we are hopeful that there will be many next times.
Hi Amy! Holly Dunlap here! I hope you're well! What a hell of a past 4+ years ! Hope indeed.ReplyDelete