Another trip along the virus trail

Fourteen months ago on this page, I wrote about walking down the coronavirus on the streets of Stratford. I pushed many steps a day; often 15,000, sometimes 16, 17, occasionally 20,000. I walked through Halloween and Thanksgiving, and beautiful autumn foliage. I walked through Christmas, New Year’s and Martin Luther King Day, through Valentine’s and St. Patrick’s Day.

Cold or rain did not deter me. I watched the silent playgrounds, moved through the ball fields filled with grass and little else. People approaching often crossed to the other side of the street. My once-a-week, very-early Sunday morning journey to the grocery store was eerily silent.

Now the world is different. Children play in their yards and the parks. Athletic teams take to the fields. Grocery stores are busy, the signs on the aisle floors directing one way traffic are disappearing. Establishments are open, at full capacity! Who ever thought we would welcome “full capacity.”

Human beings have a way of enduring, but not without damage points. I’ve read and spoken with friends about this sense of lingering malaise, of “languishing,” and I respect it. I feel it whispering in my ear at times. But we must certainly be grappling toward normal, or some sense of it. I feel changed, but I’m not sure how. What lessons have I learned? Having survived, what can I take from this experience of the last year and a half? In September, I will board a plane again. This summer I will attend concerts on the green. Restaurants welcome us.

But can I, can we, fool ourselves that everything is as it was? Somehow, this is different. It’s war without clear combatants. It’s economic upheaval with multifaceted layers of loss. It is health care striving to attend to care while running fast — no, faster — to stay ahead.

It is not the same as it was. Certainly not.

And for over 600,000 Americans, their families, friends, coworkers, acquaintances and neighbors, it will never be the same. So here is one small change I am making.

As I step out each day for my walk, I will dedicate the first 100 steps to those who have perished from this terrible pandemic. One hundred steps of remembrance to those I never knew or met. One hundred steps for those whose lives were shortened by days or decades. One hundred short, quick steps, but they will be mindful. And when those steps are complete, I’ll turn to watch the children play, the teens on bicycles, the lacrosse players practicing.

It will take me 6,000 days of walking but I’ll get there. And I won’t forget.

Bunnell High School / Contributed Photo The new baseball and multipurpose field at Bunnell High School in Stratford in January.