I have two things to remember today
COVID Thing I (Don’t) Want to Remember
One thing about COVID I don’t want to remember, but will document anyway is the feeling I get whenever there’s an announcement about new restrictions, like there was yesterday. I’d forgotten about this one. I was trying to classify the feeling: it’s sortof a mix of anxiety, sadness and panic. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way but I think it’s been a while since we’ve had such a big change to things, or at least a change to things that affects me. Or at least, I haven’t been paying attention to the announcements as much anymore as I did during the first few months last year.
I spent some weepy time: first while watching Bonnie Henry announce them, and then after I shut her off I did laps of my apartment with my arms folded letting it digest. It’s not that I’m mad, or really upset. It’s just. Figuring things out for myself. And yesterday part of it was thinking that I was over reacting like this, since it’s been going on so long and I’ve been through it again. Maybe a little disappointment that more restrictions have to be enacted at this point. Maybe a little relieved? Annoyed for sure. But also resigned to follow along.
Circuit Breaker: temporary restrictions that prevent people from doing things to help help break the chain of COVID-19 transmission. It was two weeks before, now it’s three weeks. Two weeks is how long it takes to notice if someone has COVID? So making people stop seeing each other makes it so no one can pass it on. (I don’t feel like writing this better. If someone else wants to I’ll edit.) Numbers, hopefully, will go down.
COVID Thing I want to remember
There is still a woman banging a drum every night at 7 to celebrate essential medical workers in my neighbourhood. I finally saw her last night after near to a year she’s been doing it. She’s in the building diagonal from me. I’ve never seen her before and I don’t know why! It hasn’t been a year, but from last summer for sure. Sometimes she’s been joined by someone with a cow bell. Lately there’s been a rattle. On good nights they’re joined by a local dog barking along.
It’s glorious. And coincides with when I call Mum on Sundays and Wednesdays (or Thursdays if she has tap class).
I just know that at some point it’s just going to stop and I’m not even going to notice because I’ll start being out in the evening: going to plays, to dance class, out to dinner. I’m going to be at home one night, quiet and between things, and something will be missing, and I’m not going to know what it is.