My hands lay upon the smooth fabric of the curtains, closing them to darken up the room. It is a dark summer day, I shed a tear as I start to reminisce about the world I lived in. No masks, no social distancing, no crowd size limit. Now, we’re all supposed to be at home, sheltering in place. I climb on the couch, lift my feet in front of my chest, and tilt my droopy head to focus on the still electronic screen of my computer. Silence, no one is saying anything. My fingers jiggle around the controller as I press the play button. I find my head moving along to the beat of Cardigan by Taylor. It is a typical day, living my own folklore that I would be telling to my children, something I hope they won’t have to live through in their lifetime. This is my folklore, my version of the pandemic, doing nothing but having pity on myself for being locked up. I think to myself, “This Pandemic will end soon. I just know it!” Deep down inside, I wish I was telling the truth. Little do I know, someone is feeling the same way I do. In another house, the wind was howling through the shallow frame of a window. Eyes gaze at a computer screen, a quarter past 12. Out of the computer, what once was a familiar sound came on, “This is day 17 of quarantine guys!” A restless hand struggles to pause the video. Matthew lifts his hands up, closing his computer. He looks at his sons, playing together with Legos. It has been a while since he has seen them play together. The oldest son has reverted in age, enjoying activities he used to do when he was younger. The video reflects on the thought of a 3-week quarantine, only to have been turned into an eternity. This feeling of uncertainty was different when the pandemic started.

The howls of the wind come back and forth, sweating from a shiver coming up my dry, scaly spine. “Woof!” barks my dog. “I wonder who’s outside?” my brother asks, as he goes to see what was going on outside. I look at my computer and the news headlines say, “Mysterious disease hospitalizing people in Wuhan, China.” I start to worry a little after reading that the disease has appeared to have evolved from SARS, but I remind myself about how SARS wasn’t strong enough to cause a pandemic. A few weeks later, the virus is named Covid-19 and came from a food market. I ignore the headline, continuing my daily work. “I wonder if the virus will come to the country,” I think to myself. 

February comes, and people are already dying from the virus. It is spreading really quickly, and taking the lives of elderly people. “Everything is going to be ok,” teachers would tell us often.  My throat turns stiff, and my eyes glance upon the sun, reflecting a ray of positivity. I want to still believe that this virus isn’t going to be that bad. Maybe add in here what you did during this time. It could show the difference between you and Matthew. The next thing I know is that the CDC is starting to consider a lockdown, which would stop us from going to school. I still personally don’t really think it will come to that. “No adult I know thinks it will happen,” I say to myself. I was wrong, an adult did panic. Matthew, on the other hand, is one of the few people that is worrying about the virus. He tries to warn people that this virus will force us into a lockdown and that we should start shutting down now. People keep giving Matthew dirty looks as if he’s crazy. Matthew makes his last pitch to the school district, only to minimize his concerns. The next week we are sent home.

“Lockdown starting again on Monday,” says the alert on my phone. I don’t have anything to do anyway. Just to make sure, I go to the bathroom cabinet to check to see if we have enough toilet paper. When the pandemic started, people were hoarding necessities out of fear. I sigh in relief as I see that we have enough toilet paper for the coming weeks. I go onto worldometer.com to see how many people have died today of Covid-19. 300 people have died today, a brand-new record. 

Matthew sips his cup of coffee and looks at the news on his phone. His family has many people who are at high risk. Covid-19 could take them down easily. Throughout this time we both have been worrying about our relative’s health. If someone outside our household passes away, we can’t go to visit them. This concern is raised once again as I discover that my Mom’s cousin has Covid-19, and my Great Aunt tested positive for the virus. As I am in class virtually, I notice my mom’s droopy face, as if someone had imprinted a feeling of doubt. I learn she has been hospitalized.

“My Mom died,” says my aunt over the phone. She’s gone. An echo causes the gentle flow of water to shake. Grumbling sounds cause stalagmites to plunge, only to ricochet off the vibrations, piercing my heart. Veins are moving back and forth, causing a cave to collapse, leaving nothing but the dark abyss I always feared. There is no going outside, I’m stuck forever. She could have been saved if there was a ventilator for her, but all of them were taken by Covid-19 patients. I wanted her to see me graduate, meet my children. These dreams are now gone. First my great aunt and now my grandma’s dead. I sit down on the couch and plunge into the deep abyss. Darkness follows throughout the world, hugging its atmosphere with the mist of death. Matthew’s wife weeps in his arms. “He's gone,” she murmurs. Her grandfather has passed away. They can’t go to his funeral. 

Every time I blink, a person on earth is gone. There is about a 10% chance that the person has died of Covid-19. Families have lost many more relatives than Matthew and I have. We both reflect on how fortunate we are to have our immediate family together. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what you can’t control. Life comes and goes, every person on this planet is capable of dying.