Waiting for the Bomb to Go Off

Standard

Life for me, in this pandemic, hasn’t changed much. I still get up in the morning and drive to work. I spend my day at the office, filled with bosses and coworkers, where we push forward on projects. At home, my wife continues to homeschool our son. His home education hasn’t stopped even due to the Coronavirus/COVID-19. Life hasn’t changed much for the Texas Halls.

And yet life has changed all around us. From the local grocery store being out of such things as rice, yeast, and other baking supplies. To hearing stories about people around us dying, oftentimes alone/separated from their spouses, due to hospital quarantines.

Spring, in the South, is filled with severe weather days. Days where we:

  • See the skies darken
  • Hear the thunder, off in the distance
  • Watch for for rotation in the clouds
  • Find ourselves praying over the weather

Tornadoes are a real threat in the violence of Spring. A time of pollen and a time for death from above. There are days where we feel like we are waiting for the bomb to go off, for the hammer to drop. That feeling of anticipation we experience every Spring is the same feeling I feel, right now, in the midst of this pandemic. Even though my life hasn’t changed one bit, I feel as if I am on edge.

Photo by Siim Lukka on Unsplash

To all my friends and family, who live in places where the weather doesn’t try to kill you, welcome to feeling like you are living in the South. A place founded on sweet tea, sweet people, and the subtle feeling of dread. From experience though, I can tell you, Summer is coming. Threats of rain-soaked death will cease. This pandemic is only for a season, as is the pollen. Soon the sun will come and bake it all away… or try and kill us too.

Don’t Make Me Go To Sleep

Standard

I didn’t want to go to sleep last night.

My eyes burned. My body was telling me that it was time to recharge, but I didn’t want to.

The night before, I hadn’t slept the greatest. Had a dream where my family was at Disneyland. We were having a good time at the park. Somehow though, Disneyland twisted into a Nazi concentration camp. My dream was filled with dread and despair. And then things got worse when the head of the camp decided that I was going to be his new best friend. He tortured me.

Woke up with my heart pounding. I had no recollection of how I was tortured but instead had a deep sense that it had been awful. I didn’t sleep well after that, my dream had felt too real.

Where did the dream come from? What terrible combination of consumed media propelled my mind into such a nightmarish void? I haven’t read any accounts of torture in at least a few years since I read Unbroken. My family and I haven’t even visited a Disney park together.

I’m also not sure how Disneyland became a concentration camp. Maybe, for some parents, that is what Disney feels like?