BY REGINA DOORN
Haven’t you heard? It’s quiet outside.
The silence is strange, unnatural.
The neighborhood dogs aren’t barking, because everyone is home and keeping them company.
The commercial flights have stopped. The helicopters aren’t buzzing over our home. No National Guard military choppers in White Rock Canyon on Thursdays and Sundays.
No school buses twice a day. It’s always summer break.
No explosives testing at the lab to rattle our windows and make us flinch.
No construction at Mirador with beeping machinery heard miles away.
No rush hour traffic. It’s always Sunday.
The sound of silence….it’s deafening. Like camping in the desert for the first time. Your ears are in shock from the lack of sound.
It’s eerie and beautiful at the same time. The bird songs are so much louder and crystal clear.
The planet has stopped bustling.
Our college student son is home, not by his choice or ours. He is constantly studying for his online classes and exams, or out for a run or bike ride. We are still empty nesters.
When I watch the evening news and see the stories of the doctors and nurses and first responders, fighting a losing medical battle on the front lines of the viral war epicenters, I cry for them. My heart breaks for these heroes. I am devastated.
I open the door, stick my head outside, and hear the silence. And realize how fortunate we are in Los Alamos County.
The planet has slowed down. For one memorable moment of time.
It is quiet.
And it is the only good thing about this disaster called COVID-19.