Even a pandemic can have a happy ending when love endures. You could say that Elizabeth Fishel owes her marriage to the great influenza of 1918.
A few days into our statewide quarantine, a friend of a certain age with two married millennial offspring, called to say that despite all the stresses faced by her family — and the world — she was hopeful.
“Hopeful?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’m hopeful that with all this sheltering inside, in nine months or so I might have that first grandchild I’ve been waiting for!” A Coronnial, perhaps?
Yes, love blossomed even in the time of cholera, as Gabriel Garcia Marquez once wrote, and why doubt it during coronavirus?