The moment arrived. I’d charged my power wheels overnight. Washed my face mask, cleaned my eye protectors. And practiced mindful relaxation. I was ready.
It occurred to me to postpone. I had not actually left my property for 102 days. There was no urgent reason to set out on this particular day. However …the sky remained reasonably blue, the tiny, very occasional haze of fine drizzle was no deterrent. Neither was the briefly cold nudge of a cooler breeze. Weather offered no excuse.
Left to my own devices I may just have baked a batch of banana cookies and ignored the whole thing…but anticipating that probability, I was expecting company.
Together, distanced, we made our way to the public gardens that meander alongside the river. It struck me that adding virus awareness to my list of alerts, was actually no big deal. I’m automatically on high alert among self-designated normals. In pre-COVID19 times I’ve been spat on, insulted and threatened on the street. I’ve been backed into, bumped into, climbed over and glowered at. I’m used to being alert. What I noticed was that now everyone else is too.
It feels like some strange kind of equality. It brings my presence into a new focus, redefining normal in a more inclusive way. I’m no longer obliged to feel responsible – people are actually looking out for themselves. And too absorbed in their own survival to threaten or question mine. It takes me by surprise. It lifts my heart.
It lets me take another look at who I think it might be possible to be. And yes! The river has come alive in this fresher, cleaner world…
I would question the rain;
seek my heart in the nooks
and crannies of my imperfections;
offer to dance in the space
I earnestly yearn to claim
as a legacy. And on Sundays
brew coffee and sit with my
almond croissant and Skype
the pattern of days that both make
and unmake me. Hoping that you,
finding a way into my words,
might find your very own way out.
And look. This is where the light
shines now. Here.