Notes on the Grippe

Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day Seven Hundred Ninety Three

A late spring in these parts. There were flurries again yesterday and the week before, though no snow stuck to the ground. January had warmer days than we have had in May. When my love and I walk to her office in the mornings it is still brisk though the sun is up and bright. This week I have noticed the trees are largely in leaf. Even those that had been reluctant to bud are now showing glimpses of foliage. We are now at the Victoria Day long weekend in May, which traditionally means horrible weather in these parts, after which it is safe to plant your garden without any risk of frost.

Life has otherwise largely drifted back to normal after our bout with the Grippe Reborn. My love has returned to her tower for work. After more than two years away this week I did the same, which felt both momentous and oddly familiar at the same time. It has meant that we are no longer able to walk together in the morning and while we both will still work from home sometimes, there are no guarantees we will do so together. This feels like the end of an era in our struggle with the Grippe Reborn. He remains and will continue to cause havoc, but not so much that governments will need to enact sweeping quarantine restrictions. We will muddle along and hope for the best, trusting that our inoculations will keep the worst of his powers at bay.

It is a measure of the Dread Lord’s power that neither of us was terribly ill and yet it has taken us nearly a month to fully return to normal. My cough has finally subsided and I feel as though I have my usual energy. My love is still coughing and sometimes suffers from brief shortness of breath, like an asthma attack which she had as a child. Hopefully both subside soon as her body heals itself.   For the next few months we should have good protection against his powers until he is able to adopt a new guise that allows him to slip through his defences. It may be our fate to do battle with the Dread Lord again and again, year after year. How many times will we be afflicted? Will it just be a cold or will it be something worse? There is no way of knowing truly, so we just go about our days not letting thoughts of that shadow our minds.

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