So, this whole coronavirus is freaking me out, and I know I’m not alone in that.
I see the school closings while purell and rice are now endangered items.
I hear widespread panic from the media to small talk in passing.
But the population I’m most afraid for is the grandparents.
My parents are sixty, and they’re right at the brink of “this virus could be deadly”— and it’s not sitting well with me at all to put it lightly.
You see, my parents, I don’t want to do this life without them.
I know eventually, if the circle of life falls into place, I’ll have to—but they’re still young, and I want many more years with them.
These are the people who love us more than anything—but would kill us for our kids. And we would want them to.
These are the people who build lego towers with our kids on the floor, even though their backs may start spasming—to them; it’s worth it.
These are the people we call for constructive criticism and advice, our go-to people to run things by.
So, the population of grandparents, the people that do everything for us, and our kids, those are the ones I stay up late at night worrying about.
They usually worry about us— so, this role reversal’s in due time.
So, let’s wash our hands, cooperate with the CDC, and stop the spread—for the grandparents who do everything—It’s the least we can do.
Because I don’t want to do this life without them.