I am no longer certain about anything regarding school. We’ve been out for almost three weeks now and we have another three to go, but the rates of infection here in South Carolina are not decreasing. I, and many of my students, suspect and fear that we won’t be heading back this year. But we could be wrong; I hope we’re wrong.
I am no longer certain about Papa’s condition. Something neurological seems to be going on, and with COVID-19 pillaging our country right now, it throws the whole medical community into comparative chaos. It’s not a simple matter getting an appointment with a doctor anymore.
I’m no longer certain I want to update this daily. It’s been my longest streak: over 100 consecutive days at this point, stretching back to December 22. I’ve been doing it more out of a sense of stubbornness than anything else. “I’ve made it a month: might as well try to make it two.” “I’ve made it two months: might as well try to make it three.” And to what end? And if I do continue, to what loss? A few minutes’ time every night to make a record for — for whom? I don’t even think it matters.
I am certain about the value of the increased time we’ve been spending together. Being it home makes schooling both easier and more challenging, but we’re spending more time together as a result of everything being shut down — nightly walks, movie nights (tonight, Hugo — E loved it; L claimed it was boring but still demanded we pause it when she went to the restroom), evening games of Monopoly, afternoons spent in the backyard messing around.