real night of the soul
it’s always three o’clock
on a dark morning
It was F. Scott Fitsgerald who penned the lines:
“ … and in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day. At that hour the tendency is to refuse to face things as long as possible by retiring into an infantile dream – but one is continually startled out of this by various contacts with the world.“
It is called covid fatigue.
One medical website states:
“It’s real and it’s strong. We’re tired of being cooped up, tired of being careful, tired of being scared.“
This same webpage says, “This is a real challenge. There are no easy solutions.“
The other morning on one of the TV news programs, the morning anchor interviewed a bunch of seven year old’s.
“What do you miss the most of the pre-covid days?”, she asked.
She was met with a lot blank stares.
For seven year old’s, this was normal.
That thought hit me in the real night of my soul.
Then I started to think about what I missed.
I was shocked when I realized that pre-covid was so far away.
My thoughts about pre-days seemed to be in the same folder as memories of growing up, summer times long ago and books I haven’t read in years.
I thought of something Alistair Cooke wrote about the American West.
Writing about the ghost town of Bodie, California, Mr. Cooke said, “[Founded in 1876] For four years the place was roaring with life and death: one killing a day, fifty-six saloons and gambling joints, twelve thousand people brimming with sap and mischief and vice. By 1883 it was mostly abandoned, and in 1932 a fire browned it off. Today, it is a graveyard up among the rolling cumulus clouds. It is as forgotten and forlorn as the Plains of Troy.“
Pre covid days, forgotten and forlorn as the Plains of Troy.
Maybe its best as, pre covid days, forgotten and forlorn.
3 o’clock on a dark morning.
At that hour the tendency is to refuse to face things as long as possible.