“Grandma, did people really not wear masks when you were a kid?”
“No, they didn’t. People didn’t start wearing masks until I was 33, in 2020. Reuben, your daddy, was 4 when it all started.”
Bobby wrinkles his nose at me and picks up his mask by the door.
“You mean you didn’t wear a mask at ALL?!” He says, swinging his around on his finger.
“No, not ever.” I say.
“But how did you stay safe?” Bobby says, setting his mask down.
“Oh, we got sick a lot. Your daddy had the flu when he was 3. It was scary, but he pulled through. He’s had his share of colds as a child.”
“That’s scary. It’s bad to get sick.”
I stop, and think. Is it time? Yes, it must be time. Bobby will be eight soon, and there are things he needs to know. Things it might not be safe for his father or his mother to talk about, things that are safer shared from an older mouth.
I snuggle him up on the couch and try to think of where to begin.
“Now Bobby. I’m going to tell you some things. I want to you to hold these things inside of you and don’t talk about them to anyone else, you hear? Some of these ideas can be misunderstood if the wrong person hears them.”
I think he understands. I hope he understands.
“Back in 2020 there was a virus. You probably learned about it in school.”
“Covid 19.” Bobby says. He isn’t smiling. “I did.”
“Yes, Covid 19. That was when everything changed.”
“Is that why you had to go to jail, Grandma?”
Now my heart sinks. He’s getting ahead of me.
“No, not really.” I say.
“Daddy says you had to go to jail when he was little and he missed you a lot.”
I feel tears prick the edges of my vision, but I blink them away.
“Yes, you see, Grandma didn’t like vaccines. I didn’t want to vaccinate my children, but a few years after covid-19 we lost the right to choose things like that. But Grandma didn’t give up. I fought for the right to keep Reuben and Rebekah free from vaccines, so I went to jail for awhile. It was hard for your daddy, he missed me a lot.”
Bobby holds my hand, and I remember another little boy, so many years ago who also sat on this couch and held my hand. And I remember his tears as the police took me away from him. I don’t want to remember this.
“But vaccines are good for you, Grandma. They keep you safe. We learned about them in school.”
I sigh.
“That’s what they say.” I say. “Yet, back when I was a kid, sometime people died after they were vaccinated. Sometimes people were damaged by the vaccines. And we still don’t know what is in them. No one will tell us.”
I turn to look into Bobby’s eyes. “People still are damaged by vaccines now. Just no one talks about it.”
Bobby scrunches his eyes up. He’s trying so hard to wrap his mind around my words.
“The world was a very different place when I grew up.” I say. “We had coins, like the ones in my collection. We spent those coins as money, instead of using the chips we have today. No one wore masks and you didn’t have to get vaccinated if you didn’t want too. Parents could teach their kids at home if they wanted, and school wasn’t year round. You could think what you wanted, no one was arrested for speaking their mind. People met in churches to sing to God.”
Bobby still looks confused. I wonder if he can even picture a world like I am describing. I wonder if he can even understand.
“Kids played together in the streets. We had birthday parties where people would come to your house and hang out. I could hug my friends whenever I wanted.” Now I am getting a bit choked up. It must be my age. I’ll be 76 this January.
I swallow.
“Now, Bobby dear, don’t go repeating anything I’ve told you. Keep it hidden in your heart, like the verses we learn over breakfast.”
“Like the bible under the planks in the shed?” He asks. I nod, yes, like the bible hidden in the shed.
Bobby slips from my side. I let him go, hearing the legos tinkle from the other room. The legos his dad collected as a kid.
I sit for awhile, thinking back. Times sure have changed. I don’t think they have changed for the better, no matter what the government says. I wonder what other things will change, before my bones go into the Earth. Soon the memories of that other world, that world of freedom and breath… will be buried in my tomb with me. And only the young will remember.
If they can.
It’s only a mask child, it’s only a mask.
It’s only for a month child, it’s only for a month.
It’s only six feet distancing child, it’s only 6 feet.
It’s only a vaccine child, it’s only a vaccine.
It’s for your safety child, it’s for your safety.
It’s for your own good child, it’s for your own good.
Get into the boxcar to go to a safe place child, get into the boxcar.