Back to school, back on campus. It does seem a bit odd when other post-secondary institutions are back to online studying, at least until Omicron stops spreading through the population faster then ever imagined. It’s very unnerving when things are beyond our control, and I can’t begin to imagine how the politicians feel, knowing they’ve been appointed to care for a community, province, state, nation, and yet everything that seemed controllable is as slippery as a wet fish when trying to grapple with it out of the river.
How are students faring through all this? Well, we’ve now found out that the creative, fun, and fashionable cloth masks that brought a teensy bit of humour to an unbearable situation are useless. The mighty variants are angry, strong, and hungry, and the sparkles and kittens on the lower part of our faces won’t stop them. I know COVID-19 has taken a great leap into helping fray our fragile souls. Everyone is tired of the fight; the drawings of the hearts on windows are fading; 7 pm is now silent, no more pots and pans banging. There is only so much strength one can muster, and this pandemic is a Herculean nightmare.
What I do notice is that people still plod along and the smile lines above the masks still show. Students are participating in classes because learning about the old and the new is what keeps our hearts beating and our lungs sucking in air. And although there are more breakdowns, more frustrations, and shorter tempers, we all recognize the need to beat this thing into submission (or at least figure out a way to give it a long time-out).
I feel privileged that I get to put my most emotional and heartfelt thoughts down, and that maybe other people read them. The world seemed difficult before COVID-19, but I would love to have that world back now. Like most people, I don’t like admitting to being frightened of the future, and certainly not of the everyday. I really hope we keep fighting and don’t follow the theme of Don’t Look Up. The whole bloody thing is discouraging and so tiresome at this point. I’m over the age of going and rocking it out in a crowded, sweaty nightclub, but I feel so much empathy for the people who have turned 19 and can’t. I imagine that at some point everyone will look back at this phase of our lives with disbelief and humour.
I’m sitting on pins and needles waiting for that day to arrive.