This is day 109 since I had to leave the library where I work. I’ve mostly been home ever since. I make trips to the grocery store and the pharmacy, I made a couple of trips to Target, I walk in my neighborhood, and made a few trips to my sister’s driveway where we talked at a socially acceptable distance. A few weeks ago they opened up the pool at the wellness center and I have been swimming! That is wonderful! I reserve my lane each time. I took Ru (my adorable cat!) to the vet this morning. I talked to the people on my phone while sitting in the parking lot, then they came out and got her and took her in. We (the staff and myself) had our masks and I opened the car door and then stood back while she got Ru. Ru and I used to go inside and socialize with the staff and other pet owners (and their fur babies!), but no more. The virus has affected absolutely every aspect of life. And I am quite sure that in the rest of my lifetime, nothing will ever be the same. Probably nothing will ever be the same again.

One thing I do almost daily is check our local news web site, WRAL. And one thing I see there every day is a box with statistics and one of them is the current reported death count for coronavirus in North Carolina. This really affects me. Here is an example.

7/3/2020 at 2:00 p.m.  1,418 deaths.

7/4/2020 at 6:42 A.M.  1,420 deaths.

7/4/2020 at 12:24 P.M  1,421 deaths.

7/4/2020 at 12:38 P.M.  1,423 deaths

I see this and think to myself who are you who died just now? Who are each of you? Every death is a person, a whole history, and a whole future and a unique imprint on the universe, now silent. All the memories each person had and had still to make, are gone. The smells and tastes of their life, from childhood (was vanilla ice cream their favorite flavor? and did they like the smell of lavender and did the sounds of Motown make them dance?) An infinity of experiences and possibilities makes up each of us. In that way we are all universes. And the tragedy is these voices, these smiles and hopes, laughter and tears and compassion are stilled. All died an untimely and horrible death. Each and every one.  And every day I see numbers. I have to imagine people and their lives and who they were. It is a tremendous thing to be a person. To wake each morning to miracles. The miracles of everyday life are to be accepted with awe. I truly believe this. To watch my fingers type these words is a miracle. How my fingers are made and how I can transfer my thoughts to you through typing and the web. It is a miracle I can drink tea from India and listen to the music of the Monkees or Playing For Change or anything else I’d like! The miracle of having enough food and cleaning supplies and whatever else goes on with daily life to have trash to take out.

When I see numbers, I pause and say to them in my mind and heart, “I see you even though I don’t know you. You mattered. You made a difference. And your life and the memories others carry of you matter. Thank you for sharing this time and space with us. And I am sorry. So very very sorry you are gone and I won’t have the chance to know you. I’m sure we would have been friends.”