It’s a warm spring evening. There has been a smattering of raindrops over the last hour, just enough to increase the humidity and intensify the scent from the lilac tree.

I was worried that last week’s Arctic blast would kill them off before they reached full bloom, but thankfully, that crisis seems to have been averted and they, like most of my other flowers are just gorgeous this year. Although it was a pretty brutal winter, I much preferred it over to the nonevent that last winter was. We had enough snow to make things really pretty most of the time, and the occasional ice storm, coupled with a sunny day or two, really made things sparkle.

Lately, I’ve been getting frustrated that things aren’t moving more quickly, and coming outside and communing with nature is how I’m trying to keep my bearings.

The vaccinations are ready to roll out, but people aren’t signing up for them, or aren’t getting their second shot. I’m holding my breath that the FDA will approve the Pfizer vaccine for the 12- to 15-year-olds by next week. Even though it will be well after the end of school until A receives his second shot and allows the immunity to take effect, the weight of the world will be lifted from my shoulders once we get that ball rolling.

I’ve had people ask me how I can be so sure that getting him vaccinated is the right thing to do. I’ve had people ask me if I’m not worried about “how rushed” the vaccines were. I’ve had people argue and ask me just about every question out there, and believe me, I’ve asked myself all of them.

First of all, I don’t really get to have much of a say when it comes to A. Because of his heart condition, he’s considered high risk. His medical team is pretty direct and adamant about what treatment he needs and when he needs it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t question almost everything they tell me anyway, but it usually means that after I’m done asking all my questions, I’m going to end up agreeing with what they tell me anyway. They know I’m going to ask, and they come prepared with answers, answers that made good sound scientific sense.

At the end of the day, it boils down to any risk related to the vaccine (which is low to nonexistent) to a relatively healthy kid with A’s condition is far, far less than even a mild case of COVID-19 could be for him.

They’re still not sure what the long-term effects of having COVID-19 may be. Many adults that I know who have had it are still having breathing issues months after the fact. There have been reports of heart irregularities in kids who have been diagnosed with it. As far as I’m concerned, our family is full up in the heart problem department, and we don’t need to go looking for more.

Secondly, I’m lucky to have a great many friends who are science-y type people. When I want to understand something better, the awesome world of social media lets me reach out to a handful of Ph.D.s, MDs, PAs, biomedical engineers, pharmacists, nurses, etc., etc., etc. Many of them are already sharing great, important information, but every single one of them has taken the time to respond to my questions thoughtfully and thoroughly.

Additionally, every single one that I have asked the most important question to, “Are you getting the shot yourself?” has been answered with a resounding “YES!” The next most important question I ask is, “will you vaccinate your kids when it becomes available?” Again, the answer is overwhelmingly “yes.”

It’s unfortunate over these last decades, bad science and misinformation campaigns have made so many people suspicious of some of the most straightforward science that there is. In this day and age of information, research and data seem to be less understood than ever. No one wants to put potentially harmful chemicals into their bodies, but a few ccs of vaccine pale in comparison to what else we are up against.

My final argument is that I agonized for months about the swine flu vaccination. I had all the same fears, and I didn’t get nearly the overwhelmingly positive response to my questions when I asked them about that vaccination. In the end, again, primarily because of the high-risk individuals in our family, we ended up getting vaccinated for it. Here we are, over a decade out, and it ended up being a nonissue. When I compare the two, I feel like I have a lot more answers about the COVID-19 vaccine than I ever did about the swine flu one. Of course, I didn’t have over a year to sit in solitude and obsess over the swine flu, either.

I’m fully vaccinated and thankfully, compared to others, I had little to no reaction to either shot. I felt a little tired the day after No. 2, but nothing that a cup of caffeine and a brisk walk didn’t shake off. Even my friends who have had more severe reactions have recovered quickly, and I haven’t heard one of them regret getting the vaccine yet.

After witnessing the last year’s battles over stay-at-home orders, mask wearing, and all the non-fun things that we’ve had to endure, I have little hope that what you’ve read here will change your mind about getting the vaccine. Sadly, that attitude has been adopted by enough people that we may well never reach herd immunity levels. But, I hope before you make the decision not to get vaccinated, that you take the time to really understand why these vaccines are safe, and why they weren’t just developed overnight, and just how important every single person is in the fight to get “back to normal.”

Recently, I watched an online fundraiser for a family that had endured a tragedy take off and accumulate several thousand dollars in a matter of days, far exceeding the original goal for the family. Many, many people donated, and the representative of the family commented that they could always count on their neighbors to have their backs.

Getting vaccinated is how we can all have each other’s backs when it comes to ending this pandemic.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.