I first confronted my extreme fear of heights very near La Jolla, at the Marine Corps Recruit Depot in San Diego.

A 17 year old recruit, I stood shaking at the top of an impossibly tall tower, expected to rappel down to the bottom.

I knew I could not do it. I could not force my body to stop seizing up. But of course I did. One tentative step, then two, then three. Praying no drill instructor would spit and scream in my face.

And once I kicked off and flew, I lost my fear for just a moment.

Since then, I have parachuted, parasailed, and even flown an ultralight airplane.

But it never seems to get easier. That body-seizing fear is always there, stalking me at the beginning.

But somehow, I’ve learned how to hold onto that feeling I know will come. The freedom of flying.

This fear of Corona, though. It’s different, isn’t it?

The only freedom I can imagine is the freedom for it to be over, for me to stop worrying about my loved ones.

May it come soon.