Every aspiring writer needs a blog, hence the words that follow.
Like many office workers, coronavirus closures sent me home this week, working remotely for the foreseeable future. As with most things in life, there are pros and cons. Limited social interaction may soon get old, but the lack of a commute certainly has not.
Either way, I am lucky enough to be afforded some extra time at home without having to worry about a paycheck during this period of quarantine. In addition to finally cleaning my apartment, I have, like everyone, been keeping an eye on the rapidly changing developments surrounding COVID-19.
People are rightfully scared about what could be in store for a friend or family member already in poor health. Many are unable to earn an income. Some also fear a potential recession, as the stock market seemingly drops by the second. Thankfully, at least, social distancing is a thing, and I was able to walk out my door and reflect on these realities this second day of spring.
I read yesterday that the owner of Louisville Inflatables was calling this “the second winter.” He had seen an unprecedented number of cancellations, as people swapped parties for pandemic precaution. Irony abounds in the timing of this development here in the northern hemisphere. Finally freed from the cold and gray grip of winter, the pear trees just beyond my door have started to bloom. Birds scattered this way and that as I invaded their newfound territory.
This warming of the soil, this return of life, seems to sync perfectly with the advent of this silent killer, which simultaneously penetrates our cities and communities. The very same air that currently brings us new growth brings too an element of death.
That stark contrast seems to temporarily extend to health and wealth. Spring breakers with no 401k and paltry savings party on the beach, enjoying the time of their lives. Our nation’s affluent congressional leaders, meanwhile, cautiously spread themselves out in chambers, advanced in age and at risk of falling victim to the disease. Of course there are some exceptions—I’m thinking of the NBA players and other celebrities who somehow acquired tests within a matter of hours—but on the whole, this momentary exchange of power, so to say, is peculiar.
And it begets a third and final distinction—one which balances fragility and power. As humans we all have beating hearts alongside other vital organs that could shut down at any moment, instantly destroyed by force, sickness, or disease. Despite living lives that are complex, dramatic, and profound, our skin is but millimeters thick; our bodies extraordinarily delicate. If anything, COVID-19 has reminded us of that.
At once, though, we are both powerless and powerful. In the blink of an eye, billions around the globe have, in a grand wave, abandoned their daily lives to fight something they cannot even see. Measures have immediately been taken to provide the most vulnerable with the resources they need; manufacturers are altering production to create materials necessary to survive; and taxes, the collective wealth of all, are paying for the very brightest to develop a cure to keep members of our race alive.
This season is one of contrasts, but in my opinion, it also one of awe. Even as it enters a second winter, humanity glows. What a thing to be a part of.
