Zombies are Other People

We are each other's zombies these days. Haven't we always been? Carriers of tiny, invisible viruses, self-restrained and self- quarantined and holed-up in our homes like ひきこもり (hikikumori). In a war going on in some parts of the world, people are fighting over toilet paper and hoarding face masks. Going viral in 3-camera, 4 camera, 6GB. 12GB  RAM  smartphones. There's the real virus.

But I shouldn't catastrophize. We can't let humanity be wiped out without watching a few more Netfix series, reading a few more books, and loving each other some more. We have got to have a laugh when all this is over. I'm sorry to have thought that. People are dying. 

The gods must be watching.

We must hide. We ourselves must stay sane, make them aware but bear as much burden as we can for our children. Reminding ourselves of what's normal, of brief golden moments:

1. Patiently teaching V. how to write the letters. R for rainbow. T for tutles. V. being incredibly cute, incredibly eloquent at still 3 years old and bossing everyone around.
2. Putting my face against D.'s when we sleep. Hearing her feel fulfilled not only in life, but in a budding new career.
3. Discussing Diogenes and cynicism with the 10-year-old I. Hearing him play the piano and hearing him rap along to lofi hiphop.
4. The look of a student's face when you know they are really learning.
5. Running in good form, tasting freedom in your lungs, strength in your legs until you are tired and it goes away. Then returns for a second wind when you don't give up.
6. Being stuck in phrase while you're reading. Reading something then saying, fuck, I wish I could talk like that.

7. Late night drinks (the beer is local and made with roasted malt ) alone writing about how zombies are other people. A nice bath and a few hours of sleep.