These are moments when everything feels distorted. I see a woman driving in sheer plastic gloves and we are fearful so we all judge each other’s small and large choices. Perhaps to hold onto a semblance of control. But maybe the greatest and most simple thing to choose is release.
The chaos collects but we keep it at bay by routinely gathering and washing the cups that stack next to our laptops and writing tables. The dog sighs, they enjoy the contact and companionship. We place ourselves in different corners of the adobe house and shuffle our plans to make them fit this new setting. I wash my hair still and hold myself straight.
I listen to the neighbor play his drums in his driveway while the old radio prompts his practice. I smile as the spring winds carry it to my backyard and connect me to the ground, the grit and the grace of humanity.