Do people in my neighborhood not have sewing machines? Maybe they think they have immune systems fit for the gods of Olympus? Or maybe they just don't believe that this virus is for real, because "only" three of the two hundred and six confirmed cases in our county (as of today) have died so far.
We went on the same walk around the park this afternoon, mixing it up by going counter-clockwise to keep it interesting. Several cars went by. I watched a workman walk east on the same sidewalk where a lady in spandex was jogging west. Neither veered. There were a couple guys who appeared homeless just sitting on separate benches near the playground. (I say appeared. I'm not judging, just guessing.) There was a family with two very small children playing on the ballfields. There was a guy practicing swinging a golf club. (If he was hitting balls, he was sending them into the creek--I didn't get close enough to check.) There were a couple of groups walking north by the time we had looped back south. And lastly, there were two teenage girls, one on a razor scooter, one holding a black cat on a leash.
Not a single one of these people wore masks.
Of course we did. A few people looked at us like we were aliens. Probably called us mocking names in their heads, based on the looks on their faces. I don't care what they think. I know my immune system. I know my medical history. I know my man's medical history. I'm not effing around with this virus, not for either of us.
When we got home, our daughter was just arriving to pick up the masks I made for her and her husband. It was nice to be able to see her and her rounded belly, even if I couldn't get close enough to touch that belly. I regret not ever getting to feel the smallest Smith kick a single time. But by keeping my distance, I'm increasing the chances that we will all stay healthy enough that I can hold the little one when they are still reasonably fresh. I can wait, but the waiting is tough.
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