Waggish Mind (3)

I lean over, rub lotion into my calves, my shins. I am behind on my sleep, tight from too many hours on my laptop. I dangle from my waist in the small bathroom, feel my spine lengthen. My body is stiff, foreign. I abandoned my yoga in January, maybe even before I got sick, and I have yet to return to it. As I come to standing, I think, I’ll have to plan to do my yoga through the next pandemic. (As if I have to wait until the next one to begin again. As if I can’t begin today or tomorrow. As if the idea of the next one is an everyday thought. As if anyone but me would think this is funny.) I look at myself in the mirror and grin.

We don’t care. We don’t have to. (2)

I yell into the phone. “I hate you!” This is my fourth try today with AT&T’s torturous automated system. I’ve walked through this untold times in recent weeks. My mother’s phone keeps going out because of the rain, old cables they don’t plan to replace. Today, the delightful system keeps routing me to a customer service queue and then tells me they’re closed. After I hang up, I stomp down the hallway muttering. “You are so Lily Tomlin’s phone company,” I say, and a half-smile works its way up inside me.

Bird with Feather (59)

I’m just getting up, sitting up in the middle of my bed. There’s a small bird perched on the top of the wooden fence outside my sliding glass door. His back is to me, and his stance looks awkward, as if he is a bit off kilter. It looks like there’s something in his mouth. He repositions his feet on the rough wood, turns himself around. I see he is a house sparrow, a big grey and white mourning dove feather held in his beak with a firm grip. It’s so surprising I almost laugh out loud. He looks like that notecard I bought online from Pomegranate, the one I love so much I bought a second box, a colorful illustration of a bird with a feather as big as he is. I’ve never seen a bird carrying such a big feather, not in real life. I sit here grinning at him. He fidgets a little more, repositioning his feet again on the fence. Then he flies off across the courtyard and disappears with his treasure.

Hats Off to My Heroes (58)

To be a healthcare worker, or any first responder, unimaginable today. Honor to you, always. Postal workers, trash collectors, plumbers and tradesmen who come into our homes, day care workers, caregivers, veterinary staff and more, all plunged into the line of fire now—I am grateful to you all. And my own heroes since we began to shelter in place, the people at my Ralph’s, at my mother’s Trader Joe’s, from the beginning, so impressive. How quick they were to rally, to organize our lines outside the store, to let in seniors and people with disabilities early. They developed systems for sanitizing our grocery carts. They tell us what is out of stock, what is being rationed. Every day they show up, put themselves at risk so we can buy lentil soup, wild bird seed, garlic, beets. And they do it all with such good cheer in the midst of the chaos. The people at my own Ralph’s have long been some of my favorite humans, people I rely on for their kindness, for open-hearted connection, people who matter to me a great deal. But now they all amaze me. Genaro. Mark. Lee. Anita. Nathan. And all the rest of you whose names I never mastered. You awe me, so gallant your efforts. You bring me to tears. Hats off to each of you, palms across my chest. Thank you. Stay well.

Late Night Work (55)

The heater shuts off
and the quiet dark world
wraps around me.
Finally after a frenzied day
and an evening nap
I accomplish something
concrete for my colleagues.
Time now
for a late-night snack
Jerusalem artichokes
pinenuts
a dried persimmon
and the good book
waiting for me
beside my bed.

Jaywalking (53)

I cross the busy street
feel frenzy in my body
from people in the store
discouraged
I cry on the sidewalk
two ravens come
play circles
in the air
connect me
again.

Frog Metta (52)

Walking home
one lone frog calls
from the creek
again and again
in the almost dark
I greet him inside me
as I leave him behind
wishing him
plenty of water
and good bugs
always.