coping, coronavirus, life, time

time

March…May…July?

Yesterday morning, I had to take my car in, and I expected to see some traffic, surely, people with essential jobs driving to work. But no, I cruised through green light after green light. Traffic was even lighter than what I see for my weekly grocery trips.

I finally hit a red light, and looked out over the steering wheel to take in the trees along side the road. This was the first day that looked to me like summer. In a split second, it seemed, there was the aura of all we connect to green trees and warm breezes, and summertime. And without even the need to reconfigure my thoughts, an awareness of my evolving expectations of what this summer will be like.

Further down the road, a few people were out and about, individuals, walking or waiting by themselves, in the open air, and almost all of them wore masks. The trend towards wearing a mask even when you’re by yourself in the outdoors seems to be growing.

This is the way life’s been since the beginning of March. With cool weather dragging on into May, a Monday in May can feel like a Wednesday or a Friday in March, as if this spring will go on forever. Facing off with summer, it was like waking up from an afternoon nap feeling unsettled, and realizing you need to pull together enough focus, and enough energy, to make it through the rest of the day.

Photo from 2018

bad dream, coping, coronavirus

coronavirus

It feels like one of those dreams. Where some bad guy is chasing you, and you need to run. Your brain tells your feet to move.

C’mon. Run….

Move….

Faster….

But there’s a disconnect somewhere between your brain and your feet. And your feet, your feet can hardly move.

Maybe you need to get somewhere. To work, to an appointment, something important. And you keep walking, deliberately. But you can’t make it. You just can’t make it to where it is you have to be. The more you focus, intently, on getting where you need to be, the more you feel lost. And there, there in the middle of your dream, you feel the desperation, or is it disappointment, or a concession to the disappointment, no, not disappointment, it’s the disturbing reality / surreality that you’ll never, you’ll never make it to where it is you need to be.

photograph from march 2019