I am double vaccinated and ready to peek out of the quarantine tent and greet the sunrise of a new day in America. Yesterday, I hugged my sister for the first time in over a year.
“Whoa, that feels nice.”
“I know, I feel like I am melting.”
“I haven’t touched another human being in a year.”
“There's so much to look forward to now.”
I read that if 70% of Americans were vaccinated against Covid19 by May of 2021, then it would create a herd immunity that would be strong enough to defeat the virus or slow the spread immensely.
But some people are unwilling to get vaccinated. Yesterday, a woman told me,
“My daughter-in-law believes the vaccine means the government will put a chip in her arm.”
I said, “Yes, some people keep reading only one source of information, and it wrongfully tells them that the vaccine is unsafe. The more they read it, the more it reinforces their fear and reluctance.” Then she told me her main worry.
“Yeah, but my son is severely immune compromised and cannot afford to get Covid. He could die from it.”
“So, what did you do?”
“I stared straight into my son’s eyes and said, ‘look, you need to talk her into getting the vaccine’.”
“Are they going to do it?”
“Yes, they scheduled their appointments.”
My first vaccine was a little scary, I have to admit. The next day I felt groggy and had a sore arm for a few days. Then I felt fine. The second shot did not hurt my arm, but I had that fatigue again. By day two I felt back to normal and the sky seemed brighter, as I felt so relieved to get this ticket to freedom.
Freedom for what? For the world it means the economy will begin bustling again, and less people will be felled by the coronavirus. We can hopefully also begin to step back on the trail toward the “old normal” of interacting more with each other, in person. Another freedom for my husband and me is to go out to eat. We have been very strict and have not gone to any restaurants, even outdoors, since the lockdown began a year ago. We have not even ordered take out. And I like to cook, so that has been fine. But the other day, as we drove away from curbside pickup with our usual bags of groceries in the trunk, my eyes spied a sushi restaurant with outdoor diners in a big white tent. A scant scent of ginger and soy sauce filled my nose. I turned to stare, and my eyes grew big, as I watched a masked waiter place a big platter of sushi rolls on a table. My mouth began to water. Here is a silly poem I wrote to mark this longing.
Some will not accept the facts,
They tighten their grip
and refuse to get vaxxed.
If they do not ever relent
I may never get sushi
From that Big White Tent.