Listlessness vs. Gratitude: round 1

The first week has dragged on.  Almost to the point where at times it’s hard to believe that the clock is even advancing at all.  I spend the days ping-ponging between feeling a frantic need to be productive and letting myself succumb to the stupor of this house arrest. Continue reading “Listlessness vs. Gratitude: round 1”

Lines

Every night before 8 it starts.  The noise penetrates my bedroom window.  The sound of a thousand hoof beats or maybe the beginnings of a wild street party born of defiance.  But by now, I recognize the call and I join automatically, almost as if I don’t have a choice. Continue reading “Lines”

Countdown to lockdown

He was among the first signs of life I saw this morning.  Clad in a t-shirt, jeans, and white face mask, he hefted a family-size pack of toilet paper under each arm.

This plaza, with its three strips of dog feces-laden grass, is the closest we have to a park.  It has its regulars; the old men who come to play checkers, mothers lining the benches as their children play, the guys drinking cans at all hours.  It’s a working-class neighborhood and this meager plaza is very much a part of the daily social fabric. Continue reading “Countdown to lockdown”