all of the selves we Have ever been
Today I drive across town
on some errands that cannot wait.
It is the first of the month. Rent is due for me and others. Prescriptions need refilled.
It is another gloomy day. Knowing the worst of the pandemic is on the horizon, my mood matches the sky. The city streets are quiet for a business day. The endless expanse of empty asphalt matches the cloudy sky. Life is a skimpy sandwich between two slices of heavy gray bread.
But I see some light ahead. Lush green grass announces the entrance to the county conservatory, its landscape dotted with puddles of brilliant yellow. At that moment, Billy Joel comes on the radio, “Sing us a song you’re the piano man…” As if on cue, the daffodils in their robes of gold belt out a chorus of Hallelujah! It is welcome background music at the gray sandwich café.
As I make my way down the road, I notice the daffodils have sprung up everywhere. They fill the parks and decorate front lawns. There are planter boxes in front of apartment buildings and small patches around telephone poles and tree stumps.
I drop off the rent payments for myself and some neighbors. I pick up prescriptions. As I go about my business, I pass sanitation workers picking up trash and road workers filling pot holes. A postal worker walks the street wearing a face mask and a heavy bag slung over one shoulder. There is a short line of cars at a fast food drive-through window. Pedestrians are abiding by the stay at home order. Out on the city sidewalks, they are few and far between.
I make it home safely. There is gas in my car, a roof over my head, and food in my refrigerator. The shelves are lined with books. I have music on the stereo. My home has good internet service, heat, lights, clean water, and a working toilet. I can draw a deep breath. I am happy to be back in my shelter where emails and text messages from friends and family greet me.
I join the choir of daffodils, Hallelujah!
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