I'm at a restaurant a thousand miles from home, seated closely around a table with ten beloved family-in-law members. We are eating, drinking, chatting, unmasked, and I'm thinking, how the hell did I get here? Alarm bells clang in my head.
... I got caught up in wondering what people wondered about. What are the burning questions of our time? Google knew.
The sun glistens on the water, wild daisies shimmer in the breeze near my feet, and the warmth from the rock seeps into my hips. Tiny waves lap on the rocky shore. A stand-up paddler passes, barely a wake behind her, and I wonder in this quiet, do I really want this quarantine to end?
I read a collection of modern haikus the other day, and the words that stayed with me were Quarantine! Finding comfort! Coronavirus! Butterfly! Moon! Breeze!
Adaptation comes little by little, accepting what I must, embracing what I can, trying to not tip over. I can do this, I can do this. I have no choice.
I spent an afternoon purposefully looking down, taking in the things I take for granted in my neighborhood as I reel repeatedly, round and round. I suddenly noticed art on the ground, lines and patterns, color and texture, life at a different level. It's something new anyway, a novelty in my shrinking world.
It snowed on Saturday, as the first person in our city died. It was a milestone that brought everything into relief. No going back, only forward. The first one - so much in that short phrase. Until now, no one in our city died of Coronavirus. Until now, and it won't be the last. The … Continue reading The First One