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Daisies All Over My Face.
I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that wearing this was easy. It wasn’t. It was hard for many nuanced reasons. Most of which come down to privilege and just the sheer stress of where we actually are in this pandemic.
In many cultures, wearing a mask when one is ill or may have a slight cough is a norm. It’s a sign of respect to others.
My mind knew this. My vanity didn’t.
It’s a pretty mask. Hand sewn by a member of our extended family. We each have one. She even made a Snoopy patterned one for my son. Although, he will never wear it anywhere in public. He doesn’t leave the backyard but to go for quick walks around a pretty quiet neighborhood with ample space. I might let him wear his then. Because he wants to. But imagining him being that near others is not someplace my mind is going to travel. At all.
My little lad thinks the mask would mean he is protected. So I had to go over the rules all over again.
Nothing about this patterned piece of cloth on my face does a damn thing to protect me. Or him. Or my parents from catching a virus or becoming sick with COVID-19. That’s not the point.
So I wear it. Because symptoms don’t mean a damn either. I could already be transmitting it.
