“Be careful out there!”

“We aren’t out of the woods yet!”

“The second wave is still coming!”

Sometimes in life, there are moments when you don’t know what to expect it, though you anticipate the hurt; the anticipation based on uncertainty. Like when you take a baby for an injection, the first time around the baby will see the needle, and though they’re uncertain about what happens, they have not felt the pain from that needle yet. Once that first injection is delivered, and the baby realizes that it hurts, it becomes harder to get them to be quiet should they need to receive a second injection. The moment the baby’s eyes lock onto that needle, they start bawling their eyes out; because the injection, is now associated with pain; that pain being recollected, along with the memory of how it felt physically. It is a traumatic experience under normal circumstances even, though, its meant to help the baby. 

Words such as “the second wave” fill me with dread. Because whilst we have celebrated that the country is on level 1 of the lockdown due to Covid-19, we are cautioned by the President that we are not in “safe waters” yet.

The “first wave,” if I can call it that, was taken very seriously by me because of my health issues. Deep down though, I never felt the pain during the lockdown simply because I obeyed every single instruction and did not want any family or friend to die, and I certainly wasn’t ready to meet my maker. As a family, we exercised extreme care, yet, the virus got us but, thank God, we survived. I was thankful that I had all of them. It was a harrowing escape, but we came out on the “other side,” filled with gratitude and a “newly found love and respect for each other. I would feel the sadness and sympathize with friends who had lost a loved one, but inside I would send up silent prayers that we had pulled through. Then suddenly my uncle died, and in what seemed like a flash, I had lost a total of 8 family members and friends! Coronavirus seem to have crept closer and closer, and in the blink of an eye, we suffered loss along with many other people in the world.

This ” second wave,” now fills me with trepidation, as if I am walking through a rough neighbourhood at night. I’m fearful because I have suffered a loss; the loss was also none of the people I believed we might have lost. And it is for this reason that the “second wave,” feels more dangerous than the first; thoughts of who may be next, swirl around in my head like clothes in a tumble dryer; round and round it goes almost hypnotizing me. 

Will we suffer further loss?

What if it is me this time? 

What if it’s my mom or one of my children, or my husband?

I have had to meditate, pray and lose myself in music; sometimes played at a volume that can harm one’s ears, so I can “switch off” to sleep and stop the thoughts going through my brain like an express freight train flashing by a station it’s not meant to stop by. 

I don’t feel as if my life is at the end!

I don’t want it to be! 

There’s still so much to accomplish. But today, I am happy that this day is nearly at an end and so grateful to be alive during these trying times.

As I am writing this, I have finally stopped worrying about the “second wave,” and am instead celebrating having lived through the “first wave.”

The stars are shining brightly tonight, and my mind is at peace.

I have found contentment putting “pen to paper!”