Well I'll Be Damned

Home.

Scores of daffodils popped up, waved in the sun and then disappeared over the years when I wasn't quarantined.  I probably noticed them because I have a love affair with flowers but I didn't stalk them like I do now.  No flower is going unnoticed on our property as I stroll the perimeter like a silent snow leopard pacing her confined dominion.  I have the time now to stop and not only smell the flowers but also pick them and put them in a vase in my art deco bathroom.  Petting their petals, I flirtatiously say "hi there sweetie...aren't you beautiful....you're new here...thanks for showing up" as I walk my daily rounds and visit each of our gardens.  Letting Spring amble into my life because I can.

My partner's bone cancer has slowed the pace since October.  On one hand, life has been more hectic with all of the many appointments and tests and long hospital visits, day in and day out.  There were days that I woke up crying and went to sleep crying and all of the hours in between were a blur. Halloween and then Thanksgiving and even Christmas came so swiftly and quietly while we held our breath for the bone marrow transplant in February.  Wiping down surfaces and wringing and washing hands were already routine when Covid 19 wafted in to our winter awareness.  We've been counting the days until we can get to  Day Plus 100 in early May - the time when my partner's body should be able to handle normal life.  But will life be normal in early May? 

No laundry piles and no unmade beds.  Kitchen wiped down spotless.  Mittens folded together on the antique coat rack in the entranceway.  Sofa pillows arranged methodically.  Spice cabinet organized.  Yup, quarantined.  

"What? A letter needs to be mailed?"
                  "I'll do it, I'll do it!" 

So we drove 45 miles to our favorite post office in McMinnville today even though our closest post office is point three miles away.  It' is surreal to see all of the empty parking lots of the stores and schools and businesses.  The huge digital signs overhanging the highways that used to announce how many minutes it would take to get to the next highway now say "CoVid 19 Avoid Crowds".  When I was a child, I must have been traumatized by black and white martian movies because now as we are driving along the mostly empty suburbs, I expect to see a gigantic orb hovering over the highways, sucking up screaming humans and wiggling dogs into the UFO above.  And is it my imagination, or is the sun starting to dim and flicker as we pass by streams of "closed" signs in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday in March?  

After our 5 hour trip to mail a letter, we arrived home hungry.  There's no drive thru stops for us.  Jolynn is not allowed to have restaurant food until Day Plus 60 - today is Day Plus 42. The age of "no contact drive thru" is slowly unfolding, at least it is being marketed like that on tv. I'm wondering how the food is going to be prepared when there's no contact - beamed down by Scotty?

Pulling up in the driveway, I noticed another new, beautiful bloom in our yard.  

Home.

Simple.

                                      https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MniVeP3HIDA