Am I

In the dark of the night when the moon is hidden, and my mask has been removed, I admit the fear:

“Two new versions of Omicron, the coronavirus variant that has swept through the world in the past few months, are circulating and may be responsible for rising infections.”

I wonder if it is only I in this vast universe of humanity that the peril has touched.

Are the bright young female newscasters with the cascades of blonde curls still as confident when the lights go out and their masks discarded?

Does the woman with the slightly cynical facade embraced by the vibrant red coiffure ever admit any doubts when her exquisite head hits the pillow?

I question, am I alone?

Am I alone when I put on a fresh mask and enter a supermarket with trepidation?

Is the fear of others hidden behind various facades of bravado as we enter another year of Covid and see the Pandemic’s extended family members walking before us?

Or possibly are the ones exhibiting strength, disdain, and donning masks that say “Courage,” the wise ones?

I rather doubt that. I am too entrenched in the beliefs of science to grasp any rope of rejection,

Yet I am weary of the pervasive coat of caution that I must often don daily. While I do admit the fear, I have begun to dislike it with passion,

I read the news with anticipation, soaking up the various media sites hoping to find any remote possibility that Covid has become history and renamed “old news.”

As yet, I have not found that, and once again, I will don my mask and hope it hides the fear.

But I still wonder?

Am I alone?