Covid Chronicles: I wish they could see what I see
This is the seventh installment of the Covid Chronicles blog from a Castleton University Media Writing class detailing students’ experiences during the pandemic.
As we look outside, we see a beautiful state, but as we look outside of this beautiful state, we see death, along with sadness and grief for those who have lost their lives due to this terrible sickness.
I wish people could see what I see every day as I wake up.
The sun rising, telling life to wake up.
Birds are signing to the new light.
My little sister, running in circles around the house, chasing our newest member of the family, Luna the puppy.
As I walk down the stairs every morning.
I go to the kitchen, I start by making a cup of coffee, black as always. Along with either a bagel, or blueberry pancakes.
I then go outside, I say good morning to my best friend Niles, the adventurous dog.
He wags his tail as he jumps up and down. He knows I’m about to greet him to the new day.
I now begin homework, in the room we call, the greenhouse. It has 10 huge windows, and a clear roof above.
As I look outside of the many windows, I see leaves starting to change color; winter is coming.
We had our first fire of the year last night, as it dropped below freezing here in the north.
I question if this winter will bring more and more death.
As temps drop, and green slowly fades to brown, with snow all over.
I spend most of my time in the greenhouse room, thinking about shit I’ve never thought of before in between Zoom class calls.
My mind wanders, just like this virus, affecting people as it leaves a trail of death.
I think about life, love, past experiences that brought forth thrill, and lastly, family, and friends.
But, I do wonder what those 972,000 people worldwide thought of before passing away due to Covid-19.
Was it love?
Was it past experiences that brought forth thrill, or laughter?
Was it friends, and family?
Or was it everything…
I truly wish those 972,000 people could see what I see.
Waking up in the morning, alive.