An Essential Worker’s Perspective by Carly

every single time i turn into the driveway – “what if i today is the day i bring the virus home? what if i, unknowingly, invite danger through our front door?”. how could i possibly live with myself if that happened. sometimes i ugly cry outside. but never inside.

i know i’m not alone. i imagine a lot of essential workers struggle to take deep breaths as they strip down, not allowing their children to touch them until they are clean, just as i do.

daily, i see fear on the faces down every aisles. i see huge, barren holes on shelves from panic. i learn of delivery truck issues and wonder how that effects our community. i hear of heartache and overwhelming anxiety from my peers. i feel enormous guilt my mac is not setup in a checkstand. i answer emails and respond to comments from isolated, elderly people looking for ways to safely get their meds and food. i try to help advise on and think through new safety measures for all and communicate them the best way i can but things change rapidly. it never seems like enough.

so when i finally do walk through our door; i try my best to leave the day behind me. i focus on playing Uno with the boys, maybe letting them win every time just to hear their jeers. i rock my daughter to sleep in the kitchen to otis redding & bill withers instead of trying to finish the dishes. when the kids do finally go down, i hug my husband tightly as he tells me his struggles balancing work & home life and how that can change at any given moment with the guard. then i prepare the homeschool lessons for the next morning, knowing full well i am not even remotely qualified.


this shit is exhausting on just about every level. focusing on the good takes some readjusting sometimes but it helps. the good is there. it’s just buried at times.

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