About the same time the governor lifted Vermont’s mask ordinance, my day-old chicks arrived in the mail.

         As to be expected, when I opened the box there had been a fatality en route: one chick had died and been trampled by the others. But the hatchery anticipated this eventuality by including an extra chick in my batch. I ordered thirty live chicks and thirty live chicks is what I found in the box; tiny, soft, fluffy, adorable chicks full of curiosity. As I watched those feisty baby birds I thought, This is what it’s like to emerge from one’s shell. While neither tiny nor fluffy, I am full of curiosity as I crack the shell of protective measures that have kept me safe during the pandemic – so far.

Without A Mask

            The first time I returned to the public library after the mask ordinance was lifted, however, I was annoyed by the sign, “Masks required to protect the unvaccinated.” I dug into my bag, where I found a rumpled mask. Why did I have to protect the unvaccinated? I wondered. Shouldn’t I be protected from them?

            Like my chicks when I lifted them out of their shipping crate, I was curious about the freedom of going out without a mask. The mask had become part of my wardrobe. It didn’t just help protect me from the virus, it protected me from being identified, being known.

            At first, I was both anxious without my mask, and giddy to see my friends’ faces. My Shakespeare group met again. This was nothing short of a miracle: I’m the youngest member of this group; all of us qualify for Medicare, yet we’ve survived to gather and read another play. The Writing Circle I facilitate met in person after so many months on zoom. Gradually, I became as comfortable without my mask as I once was with it across my face. And I was thrilled we were able to host the long-postponed wedding reception for a daughter who married last October.

The Postponed Wedding Celebration!

Ian & Ruth celebrating their October marriage in July. Twin Pines Photography

            It was a big celebration – not just Ruth & Ian’s nuptials, but also of extended family and friends being together again for the first time in almost two years.

My brothers and sisters-in-law, my nieces, their husbands and their kids were all there. I finally met my newest grand-nephew, already two. Even my elderly aunt and uncle were there. Except for the children under twelve, everyone was vaccinated, the party was outdoors, and it didn’t rain.

            Two weeks afterward we celebrated again: no community transmission from the party. For a moment, it seemed as if the pandemic, indeed, was on the wane.

From Field to Freezer

            My chicks have grown into meat birds, approaching table weight. In just a few weeks, they will go from field to freezer. And the Delta variant is wreaking havoc, even here in well-vaccinated Vermont. So I’m climbing back into my shell: I’ve resumed wearing my mask inside public spaces, like the library and the grocery store. But if the virus continues to accelerate I expect I’ll resume my reclusive existence, living exclusively at home.

            Tim will again assume all the risk, both as a healthcare provider and as the household shopper, picking up what groceries the garden and freezer don’t provide. I will do my part by staying isolated at home, to improve our chances of both staying well. I will return to the library online, to teaching on Zoom and to my beloved writing studio, where I’m now working on my fourth draft of a book-length narrative about learning to hunt deer.

            And just as all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again, I can’t crawl completely back into my shell – or my unintended silence.

With this post, I will again reach out by writing to you, my readers. If you feel so moved, please drop me a line and tell me how you’ve been.