The moon is momentarily posing, perfectly framed, in the lattice of windows over my desk. It is a perfect time to memorialize my thoughts; to collect fragments of the day, just as mice store bits and pieces known only to them.
I read that flocks of sheep are returning to their ancestral grazing grounds in Scotland, now vacated by mere mortals and that the sky is clearing over Mumbai.
I was told that the tang of diesel scented cruise ships and the trying drone of floatplanes, struggling out of, or dipping into, Gastineau Channel in Southeast Alaska have been exchanged for the caw of the raven and the silly twitter of America’s symbol of strength, the Bald Eagle.
I noticed that a fuchsia I worry over is producing a cluster of blooms.
I figured that perhaps our greatest recent achievement in these tragic times is the heightened awareness and concern folks are focusing on their loved ones, neighbors, and those once thought left behind. Only days ago I received an email from a friend I thought lost. She gained two kids and a loving husband since our farewell embrace under falling away rain on a pier overlooking acres of nets and industrial waste; “where the debris meets the sea,” Kodiak.
I grinned with the recognition that two of the folks living in my apartment building (a muddled patrimonial) have become friends. One is an arch-reactionary from the deep South, the other a gay man from Esmerelda.
Just recently I learned that a dear friend, after waiting over six months for breast cancer surgery, was told that all is now well. She beat The Reaper.
I understand that a startup in Amazonia is charging ahead producing bamboo framed bicycles, crops are being planted in anticipation for a harvest sure to follow, and kids are growing up strong, resilient, and forward-thinking.
I dreamed that the extra care imposed on us to protect our health bloomed into a far greater recognition that we have been and will forever be vulnerable and that we all require care and consideration for all of our days.
I awoke knowing that time will pass and that the lessons we practice now will last far beyond the life-cycle of a germ that brought us to our knees, and then showed us the power of prayer.