It’s hard to comprehend the fact that time is still moving, and life is still happening even in the midst of a pandemic, as if it should be one or the other. People are dying — still, babies are being born, birds are chirping in the morning, mosquitos are biting, people are laughing, people are crying, people are listening, people are fighting, people are loving, cars are using gas, mail is being delivered, art is being created, mold is growing, strawberry jam is being made, my grandmother’s mind is fading, and my son is learning to count.