Member-only story
Today has been over fourteen days since I sat on a cold chair in a Giant’s pharmacy and watched as a slightly irritated, lab-coated woman punched a needle in my arm for the second time. I got a card that said Pfizer on it. I registered with the government. I was told to wait two weeks for my freedom. And today is nothing short of a miracle.
Last April, producing a vaccine within a year seemed like a pipe dream. It had never been done before. There were a million problems with trials. There were no good cures. Distribution seemed even harder. Trump was still President and half the country refused to believe the pandemic was real.
Yet, here I am, free.
For a year, I have not gone shopping in person. Too paranoid to even do takeout, I have not eaten out once. I have traveled nowhere and visited no one. I spent April through mid-July of last year not stepping foot outside my parents’ front lawn and the rest of the year split between my new apartment and their place.
I am not an introvert by a long shot. On the Myers-Briggs personality tests I used to fill out for fun, I’ve always been an “E.” I miss everything about the people I know and love and even the people I don’t. Gone are the conversations with…
