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Housebound in the throes of COVID-19, we find little escape; every headline now brings increasing alarm. While some of us may find our anxieties fixated on our own health or loved ones’, this week’s writer, Vivian Ross of Middlebury, contemplates the ebbing livelihood of her local community and economy now suddenly more akin to a ghost town.
Silent towns
By Vivian Ross, 14, of Middlebury
Big, wet, end-of-March snowflakes muffle the sounds of the already-silent town.
Thirty-eight (or more) signs paper the windows of the stores on Main Street:
“Closed until further notice.”
“So sorry.”
“See you soon.”
But there’s no one to see.
No one walks the streets anymore, especially when the snow is as wet as rain
and it piles on shoulders like burdens that come right back after you brush them off.
The town was already about to be ravaged by unnecessary construction;
small businesses were already suffering.
Every couple of windows, there were already signs:
“Building for sale.”
“Space for rent.”
“Closed for the season.”
Now there are signs in every window, because
we can’t breathe the same air anymore.
The world wants this town to be silent.
It was already breaking, slowly,
but in ways you could see.
Now, there is only
“Coronavirus”
and “COVID-19”
plastered across the sides of all the pretty brick buildings.
COVIDCOVIDCOVIDCOVIDCOVIDCOVIDCOVID.
Everything whispers just loud enough for you to think
it’s the wind, or now the snow.
Even the occasional passing of a car is reduced to a mere hush,
a swish, as the unplowed snow is parted,
breaking the silence that covers
the already-silent town.
