This week a number of college campuses opened to returning students. I felt my blood pressure increase as I watched news footage of back-to-school parties. Hundreds of students were partying together, no social distancing, no masks in evidence.
I realized then that it’s possible I’ll be virtually trapped in my house for months more. My imagination went rogue and I wondered if maybe I’ll be stuck inside for the rest of my life.
I am, after all, elderly.
If I am stuck here forever, I have to admit my yard is pretty to look at, and there’s room to get out and walk. Or weed.
And at least for now I have my Katie-girl to remind me that not everything is out of control, and there are still pretty things in life.
She says there’s always hope. And maybe someday people will take a moment to consider the consequences of their actions. Though she’s not sure people can think independently any more.
Still, it irks me to no end to think that irresponsible kids and others like them hold the key to my freedom.
And it turns out venting doesn’t make me feel any better about any of it.