Pretty Pink Killer

COVID-19 sounds like some secret military operation. It’s secret, alright. Kind of like chicken pox, only deadly. By the time you know you have it, it is too late for the rest. If you look at the corona virus under a microscope, it’s actually quite beautiful. The white sphere looks like a floofy plush dog toy. The tiny, bright fuchsia mushroom clouds protrude like miniature atom bombs, already exploded. Their spacing is perfectly symmetric. Nature sure can be one cruel mother fucker with a sick sense of humor.

It’s almost impossible to fathom how minuscule it really is or how many trillions of them are floating around our globe right now, settling on our counter tops, under our fingernails, on our Amazon packages, or God forbid in MY nasal passage.

It’s coming closer to me, suffocating me. Not literally suffocating me or anyone I know…yet. Corona virus is suffocating my security and confidence. I am afraid. I’m afraid that everything I touch and choose to do may affect someone else. It might be a stranger. It might be one of my loved ones. How many moms or dads or brothers or sisters in the coming weeks may say, “I didn’t know.”

Is it you? Are you the one who is now regretting your complacency? Are you thinking that had you known you would have stayed home, washed your hands more, not buzzed to Target for an activity to calm your restless mind as well as your child’s restless hands, just because you could? Are you the one who felt fine and decided to go to a store deemed essential? Did you go to a restaurant that requires minimum wage employees to put themselves in harm’s way so that you can buy a cheap, factory farmed chicken sandwich from the dollar menu with no nutritional value? Did you buy a gallon of paint to update your bathroom now that you have the time?

Are you the one who unknowingly spread around the pretty pink and white killer like a chain letter, or made it grow like a pyramid marketing scheme? Are you the one who will be responsible for killing your own mother?