Postponed

 Herself speaks.

I awoke this past Saturday to a lengthy text from my lovely father (whose texts are always lengthy). Beloved Husband and I had been planning to travel to see him and Mom shortly. His message, though, expressed concern about the delta virus and the health of everyone involved (those of us traveling, and those of us being visited), and recommended that we postpone the trip. 

Alas.

He is right, I know. The delta variant is of significant concern, and despite the fact that we are all vaccinated, the risks are too great to take a 9-hour trip through three different airports and on several planes with hordes of strangers with unknown COVID status.

And so we postponed.

I have Many Feelings: worry about the risk of the delta variant; concern about the frail health of my parents, who are both in their 80s, and about being able to see them in person again; sadness about the fact that in postponing this trip, I am also acknowledging that it is not safe to travel to Florida to see Cherished Friend any time soon; and above all, anger. 

It is more than mere anger, though. It is deep, frustrated, impotent rage at the people who will not step up and do what needs to be done to protect others and themselves. Anti-maskers. Anti-vaxxers. Conspiracy theorists. Politicians and individuals who have made a public health issue into some kind of warped freedom issue. No. This is not political. It is personal. Time for you all to give a shit about your fellow human beings for a change. But no. 

I wonder whether I will ever not be angry at People again.

I wonder when I will see my parents, my siblings, my closest friend, in person again. 

I know it could be worse. Pandemically speaking -- knock wood -- things have mercifully gone fairly well. 

Still. I am not sure how long we are capable of bearing this weight of anger and grief and frustration, before a sense of hopeless will begin to creep in.

It's a silent, socially distanced, internal struggle. 

One day at a time.