“Will you snuggle with me, Mommy?” His sweet six-year-old voice asks. Yes, of course I will. I’m tired; he’s tired, but I can’t resist that beautiful face and soul. For a brief moment, at the end of an exhausting day/week/year, it feels tedious to delay my own bedtime, but I concede knowing snuggles heal.

I lie down next to him in his bed and see a familiar view of the glowing hall light from the corner of his room. The corner where, though a twin bed is now positioned, I have spent many a moments in the rocker when he couldn’t sleep. Patting his squishy bum when he couldn’t sleep. Nursing him when he was hungry, and also couldn’t sleep. Giving him breathing treatments when, again, he couldn’t sleep. Rock, nurse, pat. Rock, nurse, pat.

And the occasional hum of a nebulizer for my baby boy.

So many restless moments in the corner of his room as he grew stronger and stronger. He is a healthy boy, but prone to the occasional – at times quite serious – respiratory virus. And yet we are some of the lucky ones. As we drift off, I can’t help but worry. About him, for sure, but also all the others in my life who may not have the same kind of luck…

His Godmother, going through chemotherapy for what seems like the millionth time on her third bout with cancer at the age of 37. A friend’s nephew who is one of less than a dozen kids in the world with his affliction and has worn a mask since, well, forever (spoiler alert: the mask has worked). Another friend with a compromised immune system. Another friend who gave birth to a little gal who seems to be the world’s strongest preemie, but needs us all to work together to give her a fair chance. Another friend who will be welcoming her second child soon. Another friend and another friend and another friend going through chemo.

And I’ll be damned if COVID-19 gets to them. At the end of this, should a moment come and some “magical wormhole” open up and reveal that all the precautions were fruitless and stupid, I shall still place my head on the pillow at night knowing that I did what I knew to be best.

That magical moment won’t come, of course. Science is real. History is watching. Both are harshly judging.

Do the things. Take the precautions. A mere inconvenience for you could mean the world to another. 🙏🏼❤️