Here i am, huddled in the leeward side of a Dunkin Donuts in the snow. My glasses are fogging up from the cold and the surgical mask, and there is a random a bottle of peach juice crandled carefully in one arm. If I recall correctly I was feeling grateful because I hadn’t gotten hit by a car a few minutes before. It wasn’t close, I just felt the relief.
Wanted to write this moment down.
I was only standing there in the first place because my mother was spending an eternity in a farming supply store and I had things that needed doing. I’d walked the length of road between the outskirts of the village and the grocery store, made a beeline across the parking lot, and ducked inside.
The signage over the automatic doors read “cover your face, keep everyone safe.”
About five minutes later I was out of the store with a bottle of peach juice in one pocket of this green vest I found in the back of the closet. It’s funny, I spend so much time in there, I should’ve noticed it sooner.
My mother was still in the other store, and the snow was really starting to fall. So I kept walking, down the familiar length of sidewalk towards the center of the village. To the right was a polished instantiation of an American coffee shop chain. I stood there for a second, trying to decide if it was worth it to wait inside because of the possibility of coronavirus or if I should stay outside in the cold. In that pandemic moment, my face was turning a painful shade of pink.
I risked the virus and ordered an egg & vegetable/sausage/cheddar cheese sandwich on a toasted everything bagle for $4.50. The best choice.
Now there is a sandwich in a paper bag in one pocket, a glass jug of peach juice in the other. Plus wallet and phone and miscellaneous.
Ten minutes later, I had managed to walk most of the way back to the edge of the village. Past the Goodwill and the Brewery that closed down. Past the harware store and the pizza shop and the liquor store and the chiropractor’s office. Past the graveyard with the pine trees where Jenna’s older sister isn’t, really.
I feel like I own this road, for a second. It doesn’t belong to me, but jt’s mine.
By the time my mother was done in the store, I was about level with the graveyard. Mom put the cat litter and the dog food and the suspiciously high number of tarps in the back of the Jeep. I tumbled into the driver’s seat and nibbled on the edge of a sandwich, for a minute, and let beads of condensation form on the lenses of my glasses.
We drove home.
Whe we got here, I basically just submitted my Eastern Philosophy final and collapsed. It has been a very long string of pandemic moments, and I am so tired.
Love you. 💜