It’s a strange feeling to have my national, state, and local governments tell me that I am the most susceptible to the virus and remind me that my immune system is compromised. At times during the relentless reminders of my age and immune deficiency I want to shout, “I’m still here.”
There’s a lot to be said about still being here. Although you won’t see me in a grocery store, restaurant, or my book club, I still can walk in the neighboring park, write my novels, and if Suzy doesn’t notice I can slip away to the local bakery for a take out donut or sticky bun. I am so much better off than many of my neighbors who don’t have a Suzy to take care of me, are not sure where their next paycheck will come, or must still go to work like my nurse sister who puts her life on the line everyday for complete strangers.
My sacrifice is hardly that, while for so many going to work, or working from home with a houseful of kids, or agreeing to work half-time so everybody has a little money coming in, their sacrifice towers over mine. Now is a time to give til it hurts, because your friends, neighbors, and family are hurting.
Someday’s it is enough to say, “I’m still here.” How about you?