By Christopher Ryan
So the goddess and I are supposed to hit the malls for Black Friday. In previous years, I would follow my ritual of wandering around wherever she wanted to go and do people watching, picking up snippets of conversation or body language or just character studies that I would use to cast my short stories and novels. This year, the specter of our national health crisis casts Black Friday as a darker and more ominous outing.
I used to feed off the bustle of the crowd, the energy of so many people packed into one space. That thought now unnerves, revealing scars that coronavirus is leaving on me, and maybe some of you.
With so many medical companies close to vaccines we cannot help turning our heads towards a future free of the ‘Rona. But will we ever be completely free, or has this disease marked us forever?
As I fight a low-key dread on the way to the mall, with my thickest mask in my pocket and hand sanitizer at the ready, I can’t help but think that I will be a meeting little wary of crowds, enclosed places, movie theaters, and malls for the rest of my life. I don’t think 2020 will ever completely leave us.
But I am willing to try and shove it into the dusty corners of my mind, locking it in some old battered trunk of memory where I keep childhood scraped knees and puppy love broken hearts.
And to be honest with you, I can’t wait until the day when we all can do that.
Until then it’s masks up, distance kept, and hand sanitizers at the ready.