In the Land of What If

I know it is nothing more than what has afflicted me a thousand times before, nothing but a small head cold, only an occasional sneeze, merely a bit of a stuffy nose.

But I wait and wonder if there is a cough to come, if my temperature will spike, if, if, if, if. It is the world in which we now reside, populated by concerns whether hands are sufficiently washed, your own face now an enemy to be avoided. An unpardonable sin to bring your own fingers in contact with your own mouth, nose or eyes.

Did I actually hear someone cough across the room? Is that person sweating, does he look unwell?

These are the thoughts I try to suppress all day as I hope to live my life without  fear overtaking my eyesight, my hearing, my sense of touch, without overreaction becoming the new normal, without cataclysm hiding around each corner, without the virus waiting impatiently for my arrival on every bus, train or plane, every door knob, every elevator button. Even though this most damn sickness is not everywhere, it is. Even though you are still well, you may not be. Even though still I am well, well am I still?

Today we live in certainty the worst is yet to come, sure that there are harder times ahead. My goal is to not to surrender to that impulse, to find a center of calm within myself, to find something other than the neon lit danger sign omnipresent in the universe.

With one foot in front of the other I greet today. Maybe with eyes behind my head, but trying my best to look at what is in front of me, circumspect but not consumed with worry of what is coming to grab me from behind.