The doors to the patient rooms on that particular floor are closed and marked with signs warning the few who enter to take the proper precautions - mask, gloves, gown, booties and face shield. I tell the nurses who I am and why I'm there. There happens to be an empty room I can inventory. One of the nurses shows me the way. "Covid?", I ask. "Yup", she says. "Lucky you", I say. She laughs. This is their every day. It has been for a year now. It's been a week since I received the second dose of the Moderna vaccine. The rash on my hands seems to be fading. They're already saying we'll need a booster for the even more virulent and deadly South African variant. Last night, when I was out walking, some words appeared in my head. It wasn't a voice, just the words. Love that is freely given is never lost. Right on, I said. I've really come to enjoy those walks.
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