Viral Diaries

March 20th, 2020

South Carolina

Things are so normal, yet they are not. The sun shines happily, the season of spring begins. As if on cue, a thin coat of pollen rests lazily upon all that dares to sit outdoors. Life, nature, these things continue on caring little for the concerns of humans.

The grocery store is open, but there’s no soap on the shelves. Disinfectant is a priceless commodity. I pass a popular restaurant, but no one sits inside. The bars no longer list bands and events on their marquees, but instead offer words of encouragement for passerby. Cars still travel through the streets, but rush hour nearly ceases to exist. Late night shows post videos daily, but now, the hosts are casually dressed and in their homes. As the number of cases increase, the quieter things become.

My partner goes to work, but with apprehension. He is one of the few that will still recieve an income, and is the only one in the house whose immune system is not compromised. I read the news daily, like I always have, but there is only one topic to be found. Even with all the information presented to me, it never seems like enough. The doctors call to tell me I must come to every appointment alone. The NICU tours have been cancelled, and no one but my spouse can be there to greet our daughter into the world. There are checkpoints at the beginning of every office visit, and the nurses tell me where to sit. My grandma looks longingly at the coupons that are soon to expire, knowing she should not go to the store. My sister wonders out loud about how many diapers she can afford to buy. We stay home as much as possible, and make an effort to remain patient. There are no rocks under which we can hide.

In the season of colds, allergies, and sinus infections, even a single cough sets everyone on edge. A touch of the face may get you burned at the stake. Habits once reserved for germophobes are adopted by the population. We are all on the edge of our seat, waiting to see what happens. No matter the outcome, there will be a group at the end of the road, waiting to say “I told you so.” The threat of disaster has a way of bringing out a person’s true colors.

Birds perch along the rooftops, watching people traipse in and out, their carts and cars full of hoarded goods. Squirrels chase each other through branches and leaves, happy to see the first rays of the season of growth. Dandelions brazenly make an appearance, and bushes begin to burst with color. Indoors, my cat saunters lazily toward an armchair, his only worries a clean litterbox and a bowl full of food. He seems pleased to have me home.

Last night, my husband told me that I would be foolish to not use this opportunity to write, that it would be a waste of my time if I didn’t take the initiative to hone my craft and finally flesh out the things I’ve done little more than brainstorm for the past year.

So, here I am, reporting to you live from self-isolation. I’m pregnant, exhausted, stressed, and concerned, but still making an effort.

-Marissa Wolfe