38 days ago, Thursday, March 12, 2020, I had my most recent, semi-normal day.
I spent most of that day traveling home to Texas from a business trip in Denver. It's the last time I experienced crowds. I miss that herd: work travelers, the athlete on her way to Oklahoma to compete in Cowboy Mounted Shooting, the retirees excited to see a new grand-baby in San Antonio, countless retreating-from-spring-break-ski-trip families, the purposeful airline employees, the rigid security team. I wish I could see them now.
Something heavy impended but the vibe varied from side-eyed to only slightly freaked. As we waited in security trying in vain to avoid itching our noses, I felt every soul hold the same question. What is going to happen?
We still don't know. Over a month into the COVID-19 pandemic, our lives are changed for now and for many, forever.
People have suffered and died. Many of them leaving this life without a loved one's hand to hold. The numbers have yet to slow. People are losing livelihoods. Many are hungry. Everyone is afraid. The essentials are drowning. We see young people lose their milestones. Traditional graduations and weddings and funerals and new baby celebrations aren't possible. We do what we can. We either bravely go out to our jobs or buckle down to work or school from home. Hopefully we follow guidelines. We are alternately concerned, exhausted, bored, angry, lonely, anxious, thankful, waiting, laughing, crying. We feel ALL the feelings.
Mainly, we are grieving. Let us find ways to do it with hope.