Spring couldn’t come soon enough this year. We’re finally stumbling out of our enforced isolation, rubbing our eyes against the sunlight and trying to remember what life was like before this interminable hibernation. We look around and it’s clear that hope is starting to emerge like lilies through frozen ground. After a 28-month winter spent shivering in the shadow of COVID-19, the budding daffodils seem to herald the proliferation of vaccination stations sprouting up across the region.
Just as some flowers burst forth too early and wither with a late frost, some of our neighbors are too early trying to time travel back to 2019. As of this week, fewer than one in four Americans have gotten even one dose of the vaccine. Like the shots themselves, hope should be present but in short supply. A tide of irrational exuberance seems to have some of us abandoning the hand washing, mask wearing, and social distancing that allowed this fragile spring to arrive at all.