The New “Normal”

Eyes meet over the tops of masks. A locked door.

“Who are you waiting to see?”

Maybe I need a secret pass phrase to enter the building.

The white swan met a stout man wearing a brown fedora.

Nope. That doesn’t work.

I wait, until eyes I think I recognize show up at the door and unlock it so I can enter the hallowed hall.

Show me your hands. Spritz. Spray. Okay, you’re good.

But I’m never quite good and I’m never quite comfortable and afterward there’s no good-natured banter with the young woman at the front desk.

Instead, I tap a plastic card on a white square device on the ledge in front of my chair and a follow-up date comes by way of a ding on my phone that‘s tucked safely away in my crossbody bag to minimize stuff I bring into the building.

I can’t wait to get out of there. With my hair cut. Finally.

# # #

An installer comes to our house to set something up but the company he works for has forbidden him to enter our home. Hmm. How will that work?

But it does, somehow, thanks to Gerry running wires and me hooking up devices while the installer stands “safely” in the doorway giving instructions.

# # #

I make an appointment with my healthcare practitioner.

”She’ll call you at 10:30 tomorrow morning,” I’m told. “It might show up as “unknown caller” just so you know.”

Oh. Okay. Good. I’m glad you told me so I’ll know to pick up. I don’t, as a rule, answer such calls.

There are more than a few things I‘m doing these days that I didn’t before.

# # #

And the days go by. And the low burn simmers.

It’s so much easier to stay home.

# # #

The Swiss chard is finally doing something. There’s a flower on the pattypan squash plant. I wish I would have planted those sweet peas closer to the fence. The spinach has bolted.

It’s raining again.

And the news. Oh, the news.

I’m weary before I get out of bed in the morning.

But I still believe in beauty and stillness and grace and love. Most of all love. Even now. Especially now.

Selah.