To say that things have been on edge at chez Beeson this past year would be a bit of an understatement. 

First, I work at a large hospital located in the middle of the largest city in the state. My state, and even neighborhood, have led the country in the number of new COVID infections.

Secondly, my wife and son both have significant risk factors when it comes to COVID. Therefore, I became the “hunter/gatherer” for my family—going to the stores for food and toilet paper. If one of us were to get sick, we reasoned that I’d probably be the best suited to recover without significant health issues.

So when the vaccinations came, it was no small relief when I got a shot of that sweet vaccine juice in my arm.

But before my body had the chance to build up my immunities, I got exposed to someone with the virus and got sick, spreading it to my family who had taken such great steps to avoid catching it. Whoops.

Somehow—either because we correctly assumed that I would be best suited to take the disease in stride should I catch it, or perhaps my body got a head start in creating the antibodies to fight COVID—I didn’t suffer from any symptoms more significant than a bad cold.

My wife and son, however, had significantly more difficulties. Thankfully, none required more advanced medical care. Knowing how things were going at my hospital, I was extremely relieved.

So, after dutifully confining myself to the same house for the past 10 months or so, I now stir inside of it like a tiger at the zoo. I look at the outside world and wish to be free again. I realize now what my family has been living through for nearly a year while I was still “out there” among the rest of the world.

Humans are undeniably social creatures. My family used to love going out to eat, to the movies or to the theater. My wife and I frequently went to friends for a game of cards. My son and I used to love going to dive bars and listening to small bands that no one has ever heard of. We liked to travel a lot.

But that was before “the Rona.”

As I continue to take care of my recuperating family, I tell my friends that they need to continue to take precautions. This is a vicious killer that has already killed a family member, a friend of my wife’s, a former classmate and a member of my bowling league. And that’s just in my small circle.

All in all, I count ourselves lucky. My family is doing better, and other than general malaise, I’m almost back to my normal ennui. But so many have not been so lucky.

So please, wear a mask. And if your health conditions allow it, get vaccinated. Because this isn’t fun, and I would’ve given anything for my family to not have to go through it.

Sam Beeson is a desert rat from Arizona. He has been writing since before he could write, turning stapled pieces of paper into comic books. His most valued gift was an electric typewriter he used to churn out novels, which are still sitting around his office somewhere.