This place down the road was once a haven for a family. It was safe and secure, with a warm hearth and glass windows that let the sunlight in.
Something happened. Most likely, it was a fire, although my husband and I could not spot any charred surfaces. The workers operating the big machines didn’t know what happened either.
I couldn’t help but make the comparison. We humans, living our small lives in our towns and cities, imagined ourselves safe. We thought we knew the dangers that threatened. And then along came COVID-19. An international conflagration that brutally woke up the entire world population, from China to Italy to the United States.
Our safe house is gone, just like that of the unfortunate owners of this dwelling, who must now cope with homelessness as well as an insidious virus. Where are they staying, I wondered? Will they rebuild?
And so we must also rebuild, as best we can. But this pandemic has certainly changed our world forever. Can we resume our former activities without fear? Do we hold hands when dancing? Carry sanitizer and wipes wherever we go? Screen company before they step through the door?
And yet, in the same neighborhood, we find hope and an extended hand.