During these trying times, there are a number of worries that keep me up at night. But the two that seem to keep me from accomplishing a good night’s rest are my commute to work and my youngest son, who is a first responder.

My commute to work

I am very fortunate that I work in the grocery business. Now, more than ever, we are slammed with work. Last week I worked 40 hours plus 15 hours of overtime. I love my job and the people I work with. We laugh together; complain about the toll the pandemic is taking on our families; and exchange humorous anecdotes to pass the time . Believe me, in times like these, it is important to have human interaction – even if it is at six feet of separation.

Last night I caught the train home, only to find that the train had been taken over by the homeless sleeping on it, wearing no protective facemasks – and many of them coughing up a storm. This terrifies me on so many levels.

I have expressed my concerns to Mayor Eric Garcetti about the issue of the homeless sleeping on the train, posing a very high health risk for commuters who still have to work. Unfortunately, my complaints fall on deaf ears. If this continues, it’s not a matter of “if” I will contract COVID, but when.

I love my job, and I am fortunate to still have a job during a time where everyone else has lost theirs.  But I was up all night contemplating  whether it is worth risking my health and the health of my loved ones.

My Son, the First Responder

My youngest son is a First Responder. I worry about him constantly with all that is going on with the pandemic. I’ve stopped listening to the news because the stories told by healthcare professionals is a constant reminder of the daily risks my son encounters.

My son has a 3-year-old daughter. Before the pandemic, the two were inseparable. On the days that he has her, she will only fall asleep snuggling next to her daddy. But the pandemic has changed all that. My son, worried about infecting anyone in the household, now sleeps in the trailer in the driveway. He can only visit with his daughter through the window, and she doesn’t understand why daddy can’t play with her or read to her. She cries a lot at night for him and it is beginning to show in her behavior.

I hate what the pandemic is doing to our family . . . especially to my granddaughter.

Until this is under control, this is our reality.

I pray for each and every one of you and your loved ones. Stay healthy!




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