Have you ever driven on a foggy morning? Diffuse grey light wraps around trees, utility poles and buildings. No hard edges to alert you. Are you traveling fast? Or slowly? Time is compressed, attenuated or smoothed out. Your brain eventually tricks you into seeing black and white dots swimming in the fuzzy air.
Pandemic is like that. Time becomes flat and we are all dots floating in space. Getting nowhere fast. Or slowly.
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She had always shared her life with cats and dogs. Still, the transformation was a shock. First came the growth of an undercoat on her scalp. Next, her fingernails hardened and curved. When her arms and legs grew excessively hairy, she covered them. When she could no longer grasp her coffee mug, she dashed it against the kitchen wall. After several decades of vegetarianism, she craved, then ate, meat. Raw.
On the last morning, she stripped off her nightgown, running out the back door on all fours. She vaulted the fence. The pets would have to fend for themselves.
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In the high mountains, the air is clear, the sun shines hot. When the wind blows, it rages. Thunder deafens and lightening blinds with obliterating brightness, erasing all shadows.
She sees across a vast expanse. To Eternity? Further? All because the air is thin.
Now, if only she could breathe.
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This beach, in summer, is full of life; Bright human life, pushing all other bits of consciousness aside.
A family group, mostly males, flying dangerously large kites to the squealing encouragement of the females. Elders, walking slowly and frowning at their mates, but mostly perturbed by the shenanigans of youngsters. Volleyballers, runners, sitters, sunbathers, readers. Solitary walkers with bumptious dogs. And a boy who named himself “Siegfried the Dog”. A single child at sunset, bent in contemplation of a seashell as the tide slips quietly out.
Oh for the cold, sandblasted landscape of winter, when we others will have space.
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civil twilight
turquoise sky
and bats.
nautical twilight
sapphire sky
more bats.
astronomical twilight
onyx sky
(certain they’re there but cannot see)
the bats.
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“What? What is that? Oh. My. God! What did you let in?”
“It’s no big deal. I just saw my doctor, it was time.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s huge, it’s going to foul everything. I’ll be cleaning up this mess for a week!”
“Calm down. Why do you always make such a big deal–“
“Calm down! Big deal! How dare you.”
“Stop. You’re giving me a headache.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side, you asshole! You’re going to have more than a headache.”
“Why are you being so hysterical?”
“I’ve had it with you! Five years ago it was shingles! Now this!”
“Uhhhh. I feel sick . . .”
“You bet you do. And it’s gonna get worse. Pneumonia vaccine my ass. I’ll show you pneumonia.”
Image by Hannah Fulop
PS. This is an imagined conversation between myself and my immune system. It is not an anti-vaccination manifesto. GET VACCINATED. Even if your immune system is a wuss. RA
She watches the far horizon, sees clouds thicken, the yellow and iron light turning weird, ominous. Yet fails to recognize the storm moving directly overhead.
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Each evening, one half hour before sunset, crows fly to roost
Copper light by strange alchemy turned silver on the black gloss of their wings
To light the moon or the night gold eyes of owls and bats
And to draw in the hapless moth for a midnight snack
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yesterday was hot
but today the fog came
prowling
over the dunes, slipping
off the rooftops and
around corners
softening everything
we left doors and windows open
until
even the stuffy corners held the promise
of Fall
Image by Robin Anderson
Take a walk they said, you’ll like it they said, something different, a new point of view they said. So I’m walkin’ here, I’m walkin’ there. Always late, missin’ out on the best food, the best views. But ya know what, I like it. Givin’ the wings a rest. Takin’ my time.
Thing is, I’ve forgotten how to fly.
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