Not to be confused with keeping the faith, a separate strain for surviving the COVID-19 pandemic, beyond not becoming infected with the potentially lethal coronavirus. The live update as of 5:50 p.m., April 15th: 2, 073,555 cases; 134,020 deaths. Recovered: 509,038.
So, venturing forth in public, mandated for essential purposes only, that of surviving—we keep our social-distance: 6 feet asunder as opposed to 6 feet under, the depth of a freshly dug grave.
Keeping the faith that we’ll get past this crisis, it’s already a given that social-distancing and other Checkpoint-Charlie protocol will become a way of life as we slowly matriculate back into society.
Par for the course in following extreme measures to keep one’s distance, there are ill-effects from going too far:
For over month and counting, I’ve not been able to visit my elderly mother where she resides in an assisted living facility. In retrospect, it might seem a small price to pay for keeping those in a vulnerable age bracket institutionalized in their own home without physical contact from loved ones.
In a different light, deprivation of life as she knew it—and for how much longer—is an exorbitant price to pay when you’re 89 years old. She said as much herself.
Pheasant under glass comes to mind.
In the meantime, keeping my distance through self-isolation, unless heading out to the supermarket, I’ve gone the distance along my Contemporary WIP. This week, having finished drafting chapter 45, I’m in the throes of writing chapter 46.
*If you’ve read this far, thank you! While keeping the distance, may you find a way to reach out to loved ones from afar.
Eva’s Authors Den Page: https://tinyurl.com/yycm7d2w