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non-fiction

This Will End

Spring is a happy time of the year. For me, the happiest. The birds’ orchestra. The rustling of willow trees. The fragrance of wildflowers. And the moist, free-flowing breeze. It symbolizes life, springing abloom with a bang.
However, this year, our lives have been crippled by an organism that’s barely alive. A virus. And I sit here watching snow tumbling from the skies, not the waft of White Ash. It’s not attacking our health alone, its crippling our expression of love.

Spring is a happy time of the year. For me, the happiest. The birds’ orchestra. The rustling of Willow trees. The fragrance of wildflowers. And the moist, free-flowing breeze. It symbolizes life, springing abloom with a bang.
However, this year, our lives have been crippled by an organism barely alive. A virus. And I sit here watching snow tumbling from the skies, not the waft of White Ash. It’s not just attacking our health, its also crippling our expression of love.

For me, the isolation cost me only a birthday party or two. For some others, it’s their wedding. Imagine that. Advised to remain away from one another, the disease hasn’t just taken from us our lives, but also our celebrations. That’s cruel. That’s worse than a fever. It has taken from us our reliance on stability. We don’t know what tomorrow will look like. We never did, but now we know we have zero control, and that’s scary. Making me suddenly a fan of yesterday when all was normal—I was planning our next trip and my son’s birthday party, and our options were limitless. Oh, yesterday!
But this will end.
What must not finish is our ability to learn from our disasters. If we continue to put business over common sense—our thriving cruise ship industry–the oversized, mobile Petri dish of diseases, that have repeatedly made us vulnerable and sick, then we deserve all this. If we continue to not inspect how these viruses originated and refuse to mend our ways, if we refuse to invest in our healthcare, then there’s no point to the misery. We are once again being shortsighted, believing that nothing can go wrong when we live on a serial killer named the Earth studded with super volcanos, overheated with pollution, drowning under rising oceans, and overwhelmed by depleting natural resources.
And I humbly note the isolation has brought down pollution numbers by over twenty percent. Nature is forcing its kind will upon mankind. And as I sign off, I am counting my blessings. I’m not alone, surrounded by the world’s absolute best people, the hearts I love and cherish. No virus can take that away from us.

By Mars D. Gill

From an early age I wanted to make connections with people from across the globe. Allowing emotions to escape the deep recesses of one’s mind, and be spilled into a sheet of paper for the world to read lays an opportunity for reader and writer to combine in a nameless bond, one of oneness, and intrigue. It bares a private part of the writer for all to see. It is daunting and exciting. If a written word can dissipate the worry from another heart, if a written word can bring to a face a smile or a tear, then that connection is complete, and a word shatters the physical distance and brings souls together in harmony and joy. This is my dream, only a dream at the moment.

When I was 15 years old, we got a new English teacher. She spoke so beautifully and clearly and made me want to be a better person. Despite my age-old struggle with language(s), I was fascinated by the world of writing. My teacher inspired me to be a constant memory keeper. I feel at some level she taught me how to think.

Now years later, I am blessed with a career and a family that keeps me busy. However it is that 15-year-old in me that is knocking on my heart and via this little personal web site, urging for outlet for my life-long aspirations of writing and as well as begging for validation of all the dreams, old and new that just do not go away. So, here I am on word press with my own website to see where my dreams take me.

One reply on “This Will End”

Agree I am very curious to see how this experience will affect us going forward. Will any of these good habits and sensible policies continue? Fingers crossed, but if history is any guide, I’m not getting my hopes up.

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