There’s a car driving down the street. It stops at the school across the road and stands there, waiting.

Two children come from the school, and I know they are children from health care workers, given the school is closed for all others.

My heart goes out to them and their parents.

I think this illustrates very well what it’s like to live in this day of Covid-19.

You see, on normal days, there are rows of buses to pick up children. There is shouting, laughter and kids play tag before they jump into the bus.

And now, just one car.

The parking lot next to it is mostly empty.

When people walk there, they keep a distance.

I keep a distance, here from the comfort of my home, sitting in the warmth from the central heating next to me, eyeing the chocolate eggs my husband brought for me.

It is also surreal. It’s only been a couple of weeks, basically, since the word of the virus spread.

We all talked about it in a nervous, giddy tone. “Oh, it’s just like the flu, nothing bad is going to happen.”

And then people started to die in a faraway land. Nothing phased us still.

The virus had no qualms about borders. It spread like wildfire.

More people died. The implications of the virus were terrifying.

I was scared for most of the past couple of weeks, ever since the virus spread in Italy. I am at a risk for the worst effects, given my asthma.

And yet, when I see the world out of my window, I also am filled with a sense of hope.

So many things that are positive are happening. People offer help to strangers, musicians play concerts from their home for their fans to enjoy, writers are working on books I am excited to read one day.

My mom said this morning that if she’s meant to get the virus, she will get it. Until then she will just live her life.

I like that.

I need to do whatever I can to avoid getting it as my asthma puts. me at a higher risk.

I keep asking myself what can I offer to others during these strange times. I am pondering about this and will keep you posted.

Meanwhile, I live my life behind this keyboard, my eyes on the world outside, hoping it will change to normal soon.

Or at least an approximation of it.