The cabins of my childhood | The Press
When I was little, I built cabins in the basement of the family bungalow, especially in winter.
Posted Dec 24 2021The sofa, the table and two chairs served as a structure. The walls and ceilings were made of old sheets that my mother agreed to pass on to us, happy to feed our imagination. The cushions furnished the interior.
And there, with my youngest brother, I was playing at protecting myself from the bad guys who were lurking around. I had the feeling of being really safe, of being able to face the worst, the cold, the wolves, the bandits and the enemy soldiers. And each time, we succeeded in overcoming the invisible, in defeating it or scaring it away.
I often think back to those cabins of my childhood, especially when I go down to my own basement to end, in the bed of the small bedroom, a night cut short by the whirlwind of the previous day.
I think about it a lot lately, with this invisible enemy that overwhelms us. I wrap myself tightly under the “covers” of the little bed, remembering the feeling of security that our cabins of yesteryear gave us, invincible.
Like most people, I was flabbergasted to hear François Legault announce the return of health restrictions, during the press conference on Thursday, December 16. What ? Should we cancel the big Christmas and New Year's Day parties? Do we have to put an end to these meetings that we have been preparing for weeks to recharge our batteries?
And the more the week goes on, the more the flood of cases forces us to face the implacable reality: no, the war is not over; no, mass vaccination does not put an end to restrictions, to overwhelmed hospitals; no, social relations will not return to what they were before, not yet.
At the end of this press conference, after the announcement of the return of restrictions, I imagined the long siren that sounded in the cities of Europe, during the Second World War, to alert the population of a bombardment imminent. Take shelter, citizens!
Listen to the sound of the sirens
We all want to give in to discouragement. A thousand and one questions come to mind. How many more Omicron variants will pop up? How often will you need to get re-vaccinated? Will the vaccine passport only become valid with three doses?
Will health measures get the better of our collective cohesion? Will our sanity hold up? How will the future of young people be affected?
Will we be able to immunize the entire planet to quell the virus? Do you have to start over every year?
And in the immediate future, will the absenteeism at work of the mass of people infected simultaneously cause a disorganization of our services?
When I was little, our cabins often did not stay intact. The many movements we made inside to face the opponent caused the sheets that were attached to the structure with clothespins to fall off.
The occupants then hurled abuse at each other, begging each other to better crawl between the table and the sofa to preserve the cabin. After the maternal intervention for a sudden healthy snack, we got back to work, preparing the shelter for the next battle. The game lasted for a while, before fading away to better return a few days later.
In the face of COVID-19, we have to face adversity. To question ourselves, of course, but also to trust ourselves, collectively. To draw on our reserves, to help each other and to be ingenious.
The virus works in waves, let's not forget that. In a few weeks, the curve will flatten, as in the past, and before the snow melts, we will again be able to act with more freedom. In the meantime, our brilliant researchers will have found new weapons to protect us.
For this holiday season, I wish you good luck, dear readers. Happy Holidays, despite everything… and good luck with your cabins!
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