I keep seeing posts that look back at March, 2020. The beginning of such trying times for everyone. The impact on lives was immeasurable, from healthcare workers to those who lost loved ones. In our little corner of the world, I was unravelling a bit. Jason checked most of the boxes of the high risk factors. His doctors urged caution at every turn. Along with the fear of losing him, I carried the added concern that he would end up alone and afraid at the hospital. I pictured him hooked up to a ventilator, wondering where he was. Wondering where I was. When he was transferred to a hospital in Kansas City after his brain injury in 2008, I was not allowed to spend the nights at this facility. What followed was a continual stream of overnight/early morning phone calls from nurses, informing me that he'd fallen. Because of his short-term memory loss, he would get out of bed and set off for the bathroom, forgetting that he was unable to walk at this time. I felt helpless to protect him when he was at his most vulnerable. In the years that have followed, I've tried to fulfill that role, often to the point of being overprotective. This resulted in my extreme caution during the height of COVID. I'm certain that many around me found it excessive, to say the least. Eli had stayed home after spring break when his college transitioned to online learning. Leah was finishing her last year of high school. When you are young and dating, you rather enjoy spending time together. They were unfailingly patient and respected each of my whims, no matter how bizarre they must have seemed. Even though the forced distance was incredibly difficult for them, I never witnessed outward sighs or heard whispers of discontent under their breath.