The relief that the election is over is palpable among my friends and family, even if we watch uneasily as the Toddler in the White House throws his tantrums.
We feel double dismay because the supposed adults in his party fail to discipline him for his dangerous assaults on our democracy. We try, like unwilling and embarrassed bystanders, to look the other way.
We need to trust that the built-in guardrails in our system will protect us, that either the unruly child will exhaust himself, or the so-called grownups in his party will see the treachery and futility of his misguided behavior and be forced to intervene.
In an effort to find serenity in these upside-down times, I’ve returned to walks in the woods nearby. I thought it would be fun to make a little bucket list, and notch off as many old favorite trails and new discoveries as I can while weather permits.
In the past few days, it occurred to me that I’m not worrying about deer ticks acquired on my walks to the extent I was in the warmer months, even if I’m not completely letting down my guard.
Funny, though, how through our current lens, ticks now seem like such an “easy” concern.
First of all, you can actually see them, tiny as they may be, and you have a little grace period before they embed themselves, if they aren’t found right away. Secondly, in the season we are entering, we get a much-needed reprieve where we won’t encounter them when we enter their territory.
And, perhaps best of all, there are treatments that actually work against the Lyme disease and other potential pathogens they might carry.
So Lyme-bearing ticks seem like the “good old days” in the Winter of COVID.
The coronavirus lurks in the cheery indoors we seek and the warming companionship of friends and family we especially crave in these dark times. Instead of looking for pesky little vectors of infection slowly inching up our leg, we have to imagine a billion invisible warriors riding on their invisible aerosolized particles when our treasured companions simply open their mouths.
It’s absolutely enough to drive me outdoors to my trails, wearing a mask, keeping my distance. And it’s absolutely enough to keep me from traveling to see my loved ones until it’s safer to see them.
So maybe I’ll keep finding trails well into the winter, reminding myself that the good old days will come again at some point.
And reminding myself that the good old days when a president was, well, presidential are around the corner too.
(Millie LaFontaine of Concord is a retired neurologist.)