It finally happened

When COVID arrived, it was time for me to revisit some past wisdom.

I had planned to write this newsletter from an airplane. I’d be on my first flight in more than two and a half years, on my way to Maryland to attend a memorial service and reunite with relatives I hadn’t seen in far, far too long. I’d be sitting next to a stranger, masked and nervous, but also excited about getting a few days away from home.

I’d be writing this newsletter as an excuse to focus on something—anything but my anxieties about getting COVID during my travels. I’d remind myself that Billy and I both agreed that I should take this trip, a decision made after plenty of deliberation, weighing pros and cons, risks and rewards. 

I’d try to take deep breaths, to enjoy the first-class ticket I purchased with SkyMiles that had accumulated after years and years of going nowhere. I’d think about how badly I needed this experience, how much I was looking forward to time alone, time with people I love, and a sanctioned time to cry; the memorial service would not only give me an opportunity to mourn my great aunt, but the many precious people and experiences that I’ve lost over the past few years.

But none of that happened. I tested positive for COVID before I even had a chance to step onto that plane.