no. 20 : An Evening Walk
NOTES FROM THE PANDEMIC I go outside to check the mail. The hue of the dusk sky, the cool breeze, are so beautiful. I step off the curb, past my mailbox. Leave my house behind. An evening stroll through the neighborhood, a thing I haven’t done in ages. Venus beaming above. The spindle reach of tree silhouettes into the indigo blue I love this time of year. The smiling light of the first firefly of the season rising from the shadows. And here, of all of the moments of the pandemic, I feel the most alone. Strange. Unexpected. To find my path takes me to this place. Why? This is my neighborhood, I’ve passed these houses hundreds of times. I study the yards as I walk by, note the height of the trees now towering, so small when I moved here over a decade ago. Flashing TVs through open blinds. Kids on clicking bicycles. Dogs straining on their leashes as their handlers apologize. All of this is familiar. None of it new. And yet, it has changed. Perhaps it is
