I never thought I’d miss the noise. The sounds of the big trucks on the interstate at night. The quieter sounds of the cars navigating around them. Even the traffic on my own street which is very light but even lighter now. Lighter since this plague. The pandemic. The outbreak. Whatever you want to call it, the word sounds ugly.
After all, I came here 22 years ago mainly for the quiet. My mother was dying and wanted to come home. My own life had undergone a huge change and I needed to heal. I built my cabin in the woods for the quiet. To be close to nature. Mine was the only house on a gravel road. Not so anymore. Since the plague it might as well be. No one is out. The only person I see outside my window is the little boy next door riding his pint-sized motorcycle up and down the street. Only occasionally.
It feels like the world has gone back to a simpler time, an earlier time. I’ve always thought that would feel good, but it doesn’t. Maybe because it has happened unnaturally. Because of this plague. Because of a virus that shouldn’t be here.
No wonder the grocery shelves are empty. Everyone thinks it is because people are frightened and hoarding. If you could hear the shattering quietness of the interstate highway, you would know that isn’t the only reason. Our food supply simply isn’t moving. Nothing is moving, but the food supply is especially scary.
Deer are appearing again in my yard. They had almost vanished, but they’re back. We’ve taken over their home and they will naturally return because they hear and feel the stillness. When I first came here, there were so many song birds. Sadly, they won’t be back. We’ve killed them with the pesticide use on the corn they love to eat.
Did this virus really come from a wet market in China? Perhaps the beginnings of it did come from bats. Hasn’t it been an effective tool to make the people of the U.S. totally impotent? A wise young college student commented that the next World War would be fought with something out of a can. Interesting, ah?