You’re probably thinking wow Micah, one hundred days of quarantine, and things are finally turning around.
That’s a fine thought.
But also, let’s take a moment to remember that we’re still living in a pandemic. People are still dying in droves. We’re not out of the woods just because outdoor seating at bars are open again.
You can have your little bubble that’s growing by the day, I won’t judge you for that. I’ve got my own.
You can have a bonfire in your backyard if you want, and get drunk while your friends and you all shout about the state of the world.
You can sit in a driveway with your old director of a musical theatre production and complain about the current White House administration, having just picked up a growler or howler of local beer that’ll get you a bit more fucked than you thought.
Feel free to even smoke a cigarette against your brick wall that’s keeping the Creeping Myrtle at bay, with a friend of yours that’s a journalist, and is scared of the future.
But I can’t express how important it is for you to keep wearing a mask at the super market, at the corner store, when you’re picking up your takeout from your local stoops, if you’re protesting, if you’re part of the resistance.
There’s a thin chalk line between you and the world. Be sure to not wash it away.