![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chasing_silverEvery day, the cops circled the block.
Lazy loops, lights languidly spinning, they pulled up beside anyone who had the chance to be walking that day. Questions were non-confrontational, but they were pointed.
What’s your errand today? Have you been out any other time this week? How many days since you picked up groceries? Keep this walk to thirty minutes only, and only for exercise.
In the winter gloaming, thousands of windows shone through the fog. Warm white, rainbowed against the droplets. Faces in the mist, staring out at the neverending darkening opaline sky.
Will it snow today? Current restrictions limit restaurants to outdoor patios only, but it’s been such a cold start to spring. I just miss socialization. I miss a meal I don’t have to cook.
We stared at the news daily. Hundreds dead, hospitals full. We didn’t know if there would even be a point to going if you did happen to catch it. “It” was how we all referred to it. Saying the name could invite it in, its long, cold, suffocating fingers ready to wrap around unsuspecting necks.
Six feet. Three meters. Only with open windows. Now it doesn’t matter where you are and how you do it, socializing means death. It starts with a touch of a sore throat, a little fever. It ends on a ventilator, your lungs collapsing under the weight of fluid and pressure before you finally expire.
Schools have been closed for weeks. I haven’t been able to work in months. No one needs a babysitter. No one is hiring.
Travel suspended for nineteen months. All the borders closed. We lit our lamps by FaceTime, had turkey dinners in pixelated form. The same Christmas movie played over WiFi waves around the country, and we smiled in unison, wishing instead we could hold hands instead of the cold glass and metal of an iPhone.
She hasn’t sounded the same since it happened. She wheezes now with every laugh.
The politicians were full of blame for either side. He mismanaged this crisis. He doesn’t understand that this virus is real. Vaccination efforts shunted to the side as arguments over who would be the first to ship their production dominated the news. Every day, nursing homes emptied of souls - souls who saw the last World War; souls who remembered how to write in copperplate. Souls who could bake the perfect apple crisp and souls who had seen the Great Depression.
And there were others who left, too. The young and the healthy. The newborn and the old. The sick … the sick stood no chance against it.
Miss Rhona wants our old folk, Miss Rhona wants our crowds
There's no one at the school, there's nobody around
Hide away, hide away, she'll wrap us in a shroud
Hide away, hide away, she'll leave us in the ground.
As the sun warmed on the second year, vaccination ramped up. The government promised that as more people received the absolution of immunity, restrictions would ease. And the windows still shone through the foggy spring mornings as parents hoped their children would be able to attend school again, and essential workers donned clothes they would later dip in disinfectant. The hope swelled and the numbers dropped.
They started to go outdoors again. The police cars stopped their lazy circles. Stores, backordered for months, started receiving goods, some citing “Christmas in May” sales as tons of seasonal products started arriving by truck. And still. Six feet apart. No contact. Ventilated rooms. And the virus still invaded, mutated, and killed.
Babies learned to talk using only eye contact as their guide, because their caregivers’ mouths were masked. Children learned their letters from Zoom calls with their teacher. And slowly, normalcy returned, but if we were all being honest, it was never normal again.
Now, it’s as if we don’t remember that time. But some things remain. Always cough into your elbow. Wear a mask if you’re sick. Stay away from large crowds, especially if you are already compromised.
And always remember that Miss Rhona didn’t just come to visit.
She came to stay.
This has been an entry for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
therealljidol. The prompt this week was "From the wreckage", and I struggled with a few topics before landing on the one we don't talk much about anymore - the recent COVID-19 pandemic. All words are mine, save for the "Miss Rhona" song, which was created by an anonymous user on Tumblr as a response to a call for pandemic nursery rhymes similar to the ones created around the Black Plague.
Thank you for reading and voting!
Lazy loops, lights languidly spinning, they pulled up beside anyone who had the chance to be walking that day. Questions were non-confrontational, but they were pointed.
What’s your errand today? Have you been out any other time this week? How many days since you picked up groceries? Keep this walk to thirty minutes only, and only for exercise.
In the winter gloaming, thousands of windows shone through the fog. Warm white, rainbowed against the droplets. Faces in the mist, staring out at the neverending darkening opaline sky.
Will it snow today? Current restrictions limit restaurants to outdoor patios only, but it’s been such a cold start to spring. I just miss socialization. I miss a meal I don’t have to cook.
We stared at the news daily. Hundreds dead, hospitals full. We didn’t know if there would even be a point to going if you did happen to catch it. “It” was how we all referred to it. Saying the name could invite it in, its long, cold, suffocating fingers ready to wrap around unsuspecting necks.
Six feet. Three meters. Only with open windows. Now it doesn’t matter where you are and how you do it, socializing means death. It starts with a touch of a sore throat, a little fever. It ends on a ventilator, your lungs collapsing under the weight of fluid and pressure before you finally expire.
Schools have been closed for weeks. I haven’t been able to work in months. No one needs a babysitter. No one is hiring.
Travel suspended for nineteen months. All the borders closed. We lit our lamps by FaceTime, had turkey dinners in pixelated form. The same Christmas movie played over WiFi waves around the country, and we smiled in unison, wishing instead we could hold hands instead of the cold glass and metal of an iPhone.
She hasn’t sounded the same since it happened. She wheezes now with every laugh.
The politicians were full of blame for either side. He mismanaged this crisis. He doesn’t understand that this virus is real. Vaccination efforts shunted to the side as arguments over who would be the first to ship their production dominated the news. Every day, nursing homes emptied of souls - souls who saw the last World War; souls who remembered how to write in copperplate. Souls who could bake the perfect apple crisp and souls who had seen the Great Depression.
And there were others who left, too. The young and the healthy. The newborn and the old. The sick … the sick stood no chance against it.
Miss Rhona wants our old folk, Miss Rhona wants our crowds
There's no one at the school, there's nobody around
Hide away, hide away, she'll wrap us in a shroud
Hide away, hide away, she'll leave us in the ground.
As the sun warmed on the second year, vaccination ramped up. The government promised that as more people received the absolution of immunity, restrictions would ease. And the windows still shone through the foggy spring mornings as parents hoped their children would be able to attend school again, and essential workers donned clothes they would later dip in disinfectant. The hope swelled and the numbers dropped.
They started to go outdoors again. The police cars stopped their lazy circles. Stores, backordered for months, started receiving goods, some citing “Christmas in May” sales as tons of seasonal products started arriving by truck. And still. Six feet apart. No contact. Ventilated rooms. And the virus still invaded, mutated, and killed.
Babies learned to talk using only eye contact as their guide, because their caregivers’ mouths were masked. Children learned their letters from Zoom calls with their teacher. And slowly, normalcy returned, but if we were all being honest, it was never normal again.
Now, it’s as if we don’t remember that time. But some things remain. Always cough into your elbow. Wear a mask if you’re sick. Stay away from large crowds, especially if you are already compromised.
And always remember that Miss Rhona didn’t just come to visit.
She came to stay.
This has been an entry for
therealljidol. The prompt this week was "From the wreckage", and I struggled with a few topics before landing on the one we don't talk much about anymore - the recent COVID-19 pandemic. All words are mine, save for the "Miss Rhona" song, which was created by an anonymous user on Tumblr as a response to a call for pandemic nursery rhymes similar to the ones created around the Black Plague.Thank you for reading and voting!
no subject
Date: 2024-10-16 07:28 pm (UTC)Doesn't feel like those things remained for everyone though. I was at the doctor's office yesterday, full waiting room, two masks, me and another guy...
no subject
Date: 2024-10-17 05:42 pm (UTC)