For the first few weeks of this crisis, it seemed like everyone was running on adrenaline. Especially with the switch to online teaching, I was too busy to really do much thinking. And during those first weeks, I felt more connected to people. Between the video chats with various friend groups and the video chats with the wonderful team of educators I’ve been working with, I was socializing more than usual. (This is more a reflection of my social life pre-pandemic).

But now, I feel people contracting: drawing inwards. We’re shifting gears from the adrenaline-fueled sprint of the early days, to a long, slow slog. No one wants to se each other’s faces in little boxes on screen. It’s dawning on people that we’re doing this for…months? Years? And some of that goodwill that a crisis brings out has grown frayed, as people’s conflicting ideas about staying safe butt up against one another.

Case in point. Today, Dot and I went for a long walk. We didn’t mean for it to be a long walk. But the park that we usually go to was packed, and then the next park was packed, and then at the next park there was a freaking ice cream truck and people sunning themselves on picnic blankets and playing soccer. Once again, I tried to focus on what I can control. I can’t control people’s actions. You’re allowed to go in the park (though soccer isn’t allowed). It’s a beautiful day and everyone wants some outside time.

But the numbers are creeping up again, and it’s hard not to try to assign blame. What will the numbers look like next week, when those who got infected during the Easter Long Weekend start showing symptoms? And the week after that? Will the actions of a few people fritter away everyone else’s sacrifices? Or do I only feel that because there’s so little of my life I can control right now? Maybe it feels better to blame the Instagram/TikTok beautiful people with guitars sipping coolers in the park, than to admit that while social distancing measures work, so much is also luck and chance.

I constantly have to fight the urge to turn this moment into a story: to give it meaning. Stories are comforting. They have a beginning, middle and end. A protagonist fights an antagonist (Man vs. Man! Man vs. Self! Man vs. Nature! All three at once!) This isn’t a story, but a moment we’re living through. It’s a virus, not a life lesson.