This instalment is called Night Vision.

Positive.

On December 27th, 2021, after two solid years of fear, panic and anxiety, two faint lines emerge on my rapid antigen test.

Positive.

At first, I go into denial. Surely this has to be a mistake. How could this happen to me?

I'm too lucky to get COVID.

But well, I'd just spent a week with 23 family members in a Shelley and France.

A ski vacation, complete with daily bus rides too and from the slopes, bus rides packed with British tourists.

The Omicron odds were steep and totally stacked against me.

Almost. You see, on the 24th, Matilde, her sister and I took our mandatory within 48 hours of our flight from Geneva to Portugal COVID tests and all three of us were negative.

So we were able to fly to Lisbon on the 26th.

Perhaps, if we'd gotten stuck in France, perhaps then I might have spent more time lingering with anger, negotiation and depression.

But since my luck did hold out, since we tested positive on the day after we landed in Lisbon, I skipped straight ahead to the 5th and final stage of grief, acceptance.

For five days, we did our best to isolate ourselves from other people.

Every morning, we drove out to the coast.

Our dough and his cousin played soccer on the beach.

Matilde and her sister dozed in the sun.

And I, I lost myself in the crashing waves.

In the evenings, we walked movies.

You asked me to believe this, that you kept in front of the track.

I was singing in a concert. Believe me, it would be a performance beyond anything even I've read.

I just hope we're not too late.

...