I’ve got two days left until my vaccine is effective. That’s it, just two days. I’ve been keeping count by notching scratch marks into my garage wall. Two short days and then…something. Honestly, I’m not sure what. My family and I have been in lockdown for over a year and I’m not sure what the vaccine world will look like.
I imagine that rainbows are still a thing and honestly, I expect a lot of them when I go out to eat for the first time. And if there are rainbows, then there must be unicorns riding them. That’s just common sense. I wonder if the leprechauns charge some sort of toll fee? Maybe I’ll figure that out in two days.
I have forgotten how to order in restaurants, so that’s a skill I’ll have to brush up on. My instinct at this point is to push the number three on my phone and to wait for the next available chipper team member. However, I vaguely remember that it doesn’t work like that in person. Do I order out on the curb and then head inside? I’ll check the FAQ page of whatever restaurant I choose to go to.
What about movies? Are those still a thing? Are there any movies out right now? Are theaters open and do you still have to take out a mortgage to afford the large bucket of popcorn? At this point, I’m used to watching movies in my underwear, but I don’t think that is allowed on the outside. I’ll bring pants, just in case, but I will probably have to sneak them in with my bag of popcorn I’m bringing from home.
There are so many habits that my family and I have built up over the last year. For example, I start each day hopeful until I see that a large group of people got together anyway and now our numbers are going up. Is that still a thing? I had to stop checking the news for my own mental health. Or is it like a Groundhog Day sighting? Like, if a spring break party happens on the beach, how many nursing homes will get infected before we have six more months of plague? I’m still not going to check the news.
I’m looking forward to going to the library again. Before all of this, when my kids were still in school, I would spend a lot of time at the library writing. Or in a bookstore. Occasionally a coffee shop because it’s important to keep the cliché alive. I want to sit at my little space surrounded by all the books and look out the giant window they have there. I want to see the sun washing over the back of my computer. I want to write a joke that leads to a paragraph that leads to an article. I want to see a rainbow from the library.
I hope that I will still see people wearing masks. As I understand it, the shot will keep me from having severe symptoms, but not keep me from spreading it should I get it. I will take my mask everywhere with me in two days because I know that there are still a lot of people that have not gotten the vaccine. There are still teenagers that don’t have it. My own kids are still too young. They could get it. So, I will be careful because I care about my community.
Which brings me to the biggest thing I hope to see when I head back into the world. I hope to see kindness. I hope to see people still trying to help one another. I hope that I see patience because it’s not something I’ve seen in a year. I’ve seen conspiracies run rampant, social media amplifying insane voices, and cruel people refusing to care about their fellow countrymen.
Above all, I hope to see kindness.
But also, unicorns on rainbows.
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