Original Story: "A time of sirens", by bonzopoe

I wrote this over a year ago, when a couple of people close to me were hospitalized due to Covid-19. One died, and another survived, and months later the pandemic took another close person, an uncle.

Many other acquaintances, not so close to me, but close to my family and friends also passed away, and I don't think I've ever given my condolences to as many people as I have in these last two years.

However, what marked me the most were the sirens of the ambulances that constantly passed by my house, at all hours, all the time. This relief in the form of a pseudo story is about them.

Some time ago I thought about writing this post, but the sirens left, and only suddenly one or another reared its head in the sea of my days. But in recent times the sirens have returned, and perhaps in more numbers than before. I listen to them all the time, at all hours, and sometimes I see them pass by, or in front of me.

It particularly affects me to hear them approach. They always do it slowly, as if they were raging showing their protagonism. The increase in the volume of their voice even makes my skin crawl, and no matter what I am doing, after listening to them my whole being shakes for a while, just like the mirror on the surface of a lake is disturbed when one throws it a stone.

The sirens are the stone that falls on me when I least expect it, and they turn my daily life into a momentary chaos. Yesterday, almost at midnight, one stopped in front of my house, with its red and white lights turning along with its metallic, repetitive and strident song, and when it left I couldn't help but wonder if it had gone with one of my neighbors in her belly.

Unlike the sirens of Homer's Odyssey, which Ulysses faces, these sirens, rather than being the downfall of sailors, can be the salvation of those who are the object of their attention. But they are also a prelude to an uncertain future, with a starting point against it.

They say that with time you get used to everything. I myself, living near a conflictive corner, have become accustomed to tire burns, and the sound of minor traffic accidents.

Over time I have learned to distinguish the sound of a serious accident from that of a minor one, but I cannot get used to the sound of the sirens, largely because in these times of Covid-19 it has taken on a new meaning, which no matter how I try, I can't get used to it.

The pandemic had haunted my family, but from afar, like many others. But after almost a year, the case histories are getting closer. Today I have the partner of one of my sisters in hospital, as well as the mother of a brother-in-law; both due to pneumonia due to Covid-19, both delicate but stable for the moment.

The list of people who have been taken by the sirens is getting longer, and many have never returned, and many others will not either. There is nothing left but to take care of yourself, physically and mentally, and like Ulysses, be strong and never lose hope, because this pandemic, this time of sirens, like Homer's Odyssey, seems eternal, but one day it will end.

We have become accustomed to the pandemic, and thanks to the vaccines, mortality has decreased, but variants of the virus continue to appear frequently, so let's not fool ourselves, we are still not entirely safe, but we have recovered part of what was normal , let's take advantage of it, and hopefully it will be definitive or at least lasting.

Thank you very much for reading this post and dedicating a moment of your time. Until next time and remember to leave a comment.