By Rod Smith
There is a weariness in the air. I feel it. It is not that we don’t enjoy our homes or love those who live in our homes with us. We do. And, we love our neighbourhoods and our sub-communities.
The weariness stems from feeling cut-off. Isolated.
There is a nervousness, a group anxiety, and it is seeping into our beings and it’s getting heavy. The tension of the unknown is taking its toll.
When will it end? Who will be next? What will close next? Will schools ever be the same again?
These seem to be the weighty questions.
A portion of the weight of the burden must go also to the affront of the virus.
We are offended that it came here, to us. It sneaked into the United States at this time. No visa, no welcome. It entered underhanded.
Does it not know who we are?
We are Americans. Such things happen in far-off countries, not to us. We are always ahead of such things.
There is a “how dare you” among us and where there is not it’s a unified denial that this is real at all. The hoax label attached to the virus arises honestly.
It comes from the disbelief that we are victims, common victims, to an imported destructive spy and how dare it invade our shores and do this evil work.