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When Will We Laugh Again

Personal Essay Over the COVID-19 Pandemic

By Medley JonesPublished 4 years ago 3 min read
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After disinfecting the remote control for the fourth time today because my mother has been coughing a little too much recently, I turn on the television. It hums a little loudly as if sighing from exhaustion.

“Sorry, tele there really is nothing better to do.”

During my search, I can’t find a single commercial that doesn’t highlight the pandemic. It’s not that I don’t want to see advertisements addressing the safety precautions needed to flatten the curve. I do. It just gets pretty hard to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach while watching a birthday themed commercial in an empty room. I look forward to the future where sitcoms will make jokes about the coronavirus and we can all look back and laugh at it.

I can’t remember what possessed me to look out my window that Saturday morning, but I was glad I did. I found intruders in my yard. Madly curious, I called my mom over to come see. Even though I used a “go get my gun” tone, there were no firearms in the house and I honestly was not going to shoot a minivan. At first, what appeared to be a large unlawful gathering at the neighbors causing an outpour of cars to line up in our yard turned out to be a birthday parade. I heard about these on social media. Families would decorate their cars and drive by the honoree’s house in celebration.

I watched in my batman robe. My fingers parted the see through curtain that I was childishly trying to hide behind. Our windows are far from tinted, and our door is made out of transparent glass window-like panels from the top to the floor. Batman would not be proud.

Nonetheless, my snooping was the last thing on the parents’ mind as the mother got out in her BBQ Becky hoodie and glasses combo feverishly trying to hang the happy birthday banner from one passenger seat to the other. It was at this moment I finally noticed the three children in the back seat. They were restless. One was staring directly at me. Why do we even have these curtains? I turned my focus to the father who was taping a sign on the front passenger’s door. Me and my mom took turns trying to read the child’s name written festively in crayola marker, “Dalen?” We found out later from the signs in their front yard on a morning stroll his name was Delan.

One of the children hopped out of the car and began playing with a sewer top in our front yard. He was dancing, stomping on it relentlessly as if trying to activate a geyser. The feeling of property violation did not even cross my mind, I laughed and instant ran throughout the entire house. “We have to get him something!” I was searching everywhere. The party riders looked around 7 to 10 years old. They wouldn’t want one of our candles, maybe cleaning supplies? My mom then pointed out that even if I geared up in my mask and gloves and dropped it on the front porch and let them grab it they probably wouldn’t touch it at the fear of germs lingering on its surface.

Finally, once their party train began, I spectated. I stopped counting at 10 cars and left my front row seat to go brush my teeth. My mom was now positioned at our glass door waving through the pane. A tear sat at my lid as I walked up the stairs thinking of Delan’s reaction. The thought of him wanting to hug his friends, the thought of wanting to share his cake. There’s always next year Delan.

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About the Creator

Medley Jones

For more of my entertainment and political posts please visit my website at MedleyJones.com

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