Spring 2020: COVID-19 and Hope

The View One Month Into the Reality of the Pandemic— Now Five Years Later

COVID-19 pierced my focus on Sunday evening March 8, 2020. A month later on April 6, 2020, I published the following piece, updated here, on Old Ones Dream. It was titled “Living on Virus Time.”

Photo by Stephanie Martin on Unsplash

I sit in the dark with my morning coffee and I ruminate . . . and I smile. It has become a useful habit for me.

    I watch the lights come on across the valley of the East Fork. I imagine the heat sources rumbling and the water heaters hissing. Then a very few car lights wind down the ridges and the slopes to the natural turnpike of the Brevard Rift, which is the way our waters go to the Ohio River, and the way our highways go to work and school. I watch the lights of night flights at the end of their great circle route from northern Europe over Newfoundland, Maine and Massachusetts to join the pattern of northern approach to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta (“ATL”), one of the busiest airports in the world.

    Several months ago I watched the large bright red and white flashing lights of an emergency response vehicle as it wound every mile of the way up the mountain to those homes. Perhaps it was an early morning cardiac event, or a kitchen grease fire . . . or a volunteer fireman going home for breakfast. Next morning the pattern of lights and their goings and comings was normal. All was well in my view of the southern mountains.

    Yesterday morning, Monday April 6, 2020, for the first time there were no lights moving. No cars, no planes, no meteors. No FedEx flight from Memphis to Greenville – Spartanburg (“GSP”), no flights from Raleigh-Durham and Greensboro to Dallas-Fort Worth. No flights from Frankfort, Amsterdam, London, Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Washington, Richmond or GSP to ATL. The morning lights were out – my companions missing.

    Where are we going? This morning, Tuesday, the 6 o’clock flights—FedEx from Memphis to GSP, and GSP to Atlanta—are back. A good omen I hope.

    Hope.

Photo by Edwin Hooper on Unsplash