Coronavirus Chronicles: Whatever comes to pass

I've come to a conclusion today, Day 44, as I sit on the porch this gorgeous evening, a half-hour before sunset, listening to the less-than-six-feet-of-distancing outdoor group gathering thrown by middle-aged neighbors despite all the recommendations that small intimate groups like this spread the coronavirus:

The second wave is coming, and it will waste all the progress made over the past six weeks. And it will be the result of Americans of all ages, political persuasions, wealth, and job status being selfish, lazy, weak, bored, and inconvenienced.

I'm typing all this out because if it the reopening does go south -- and I'm hoping that I'm wrong but we are six weeks in and the flattening hasn't quite happened yet -- I want to pinpoint when and why. Granted, we've weathered the pandemic better than others, but there is so much evidence that others who are as fortunate as we've been are more thinking of themselves than the greater good. Perhaps the percentage of this apathy is low, and perhaps the apathy is in small spurts, such as our neighbors' barbecue (I pray nobody is infecting each other over there), but the premature pullback might just be enough to make the next wave worse both economically and the human toll.

Two months ago, when the nationwide lockdown was being floated, I was resistant, not that I wouldn't do my part, but that it was an overreaction. I quickly changed my tune when the situation deteriorated in Italy, and when the evidence was undeniable that COVID-19 was much more potentially capable of killing or seriously harming a small percentage of infected people. More than 55,000 deaths in the U.S. later, this is what we needed to do.

But two months ago, I wasn't sure if we could do it. I thought that our nation didn't have the stomach for it. I was pleasantly surprised how diligent most people have been, and though 55,000 deaths is still tragic, it could be much worse.

However, now some people are throwing their diligence to the virus-particled wind. I still feel optimistic for Utah, and nothing is forcing us to participate in the economy when it reopens, I'm just a bit sad, because, like a companion who disappoints you despite all your hopes they'll change, we are exactly who I thought we were.

The other pre-lockdown thing I remember is being in the car before Ben's state meet, wondering if I should be savoring -- or at least experiencing -- the moment as a "This is what it was like before everything changed" event. I didn't have a clue then what to expect and thought maybe I was being melodramatic. Turns out, I wasn't overthinking it at all. For example, I bet we won't sit inside a restaurant and eat a meal for at least a year.

I needed to get that out and will return to writing about our experience rather than the overall state of affairs. This was another speedy week followed by a quick weekend. The boys and I were yardwork demons these past two days, and the leaves are just about to pop on the linden. The weather should be great all week, and Michael got the patio table set up in the backyard, so I'm anticipating being outside like it's summer again.

Ben and I went for a short hike today along the Bonneville Shoreline Trail. The trail wasn't too crowded, and except for one little bottleneck with a mountain biker and three runners, we were able to easily socially distance. Popcorn became a little overheated so we cut the hike short, but even just a couple miles felt great.

I can't think of a profound way to end this post. I loved the time with my family this weekend. Maybe that's enough.