100,000 Dead in the US

I hear that headline on CNN – the best case scenario for the USA – and feel uniquely thankful to be Canadian. Uniquely sad as my mind tries to wrap itself around that number. Those people who are not numbers but people. I am also acutely aware of the fact that my Country is likely just a few steps behind – less dense with infection, yes, but trailing nonetheless.

I am exhausted. My bones hurt and my mind is weary. I have always struggled with sleep, this is nothing new, but I can usually pinpoint exactly why. I like reasons, explanations for that which I cannot control. A pandemic when you are a mother is reason enough, right? I’m not sure. When it is 3:00 a.m. and I am doing dishes, listening to an audiobook, I wonder when sleep will steal me away. If it will skip the night entirely. My dog sleeps; he breathes heavily on his bed near the small kitchen table. My daughter is flat on her back, surrounded by her three favorite stuffed animals, sleeping like the angel that she is. But I remain awake.

A friend who is sweet of soul and gentle in touch, allows me to write him long and rambling letters. Six pages, seven. He even reads them – a tall order I expect – and I mail them although he lives just a few minutes away. It helps with the isolation and it reminds me of my checkered past; the people I should have held close but let go. The things I wish I could fix and the things that I have.

It’s raining today but no matter; I will push my daughters stroller up the small mountains that define my location, and later, when all is still, I will kiss her forehead and tell her, “I will see you soon. I love you” and she will sleep and that is all that matters. Her.

Behind me – the news on – I hear the WHO talking about wearing scarves around our faces when we leave our homes; about a second wave of infection coming in the Fall.

At least, I think, my daughter will be too young to remember everything before this, she will only remember everything that came after. I will keep her safe.

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