The Ides of March
Sunday, March 15, 2020
At the top of the hill behind my house is a trail that on Google Maps is labeled “St. Francis Trail.” And at the top of that trail is a circular stand of short shrubby trees. I call this spot “Gethsemane.” If it had a stone bench, a “little free library,” and fewer power lines, it could be a reasonable spot for reflection, prayer, and meditation.
I counted at least a dozen people walking the trails, along with 6-8 dogs, a few baby strollers, some cyclists passing by, and at least eight small planes flying around and around, all trying to pretend, like I am, that things are normal.
Of course things are not normal. I woke up aching and tired. My temperature is up a degree from its usual 97. I’ve had a headache all day (except, paradoxically, during this walk). My sister says to gargle with salt water, so I did. I've washed my hands, again and again.
I have online friends in other countries, who are locked down in red zones. People are wearing masks. People are touching nothing.
Here they’re flying airplanes around, visiting Starbucks, and complaining at Walgreen’s that they can’t buy toilet paper. I overheard the people next door saying they had more bacon than they knew what to do with.
At the same time, my group are working at home, self-distancing, self-isolating. My yoga studio has closed, offering classes online. We’ve postponed movie night and BNO.
I think transmission has already occurred. In one to two weeks we’ll know for sure. Meanwhile, find a Gethsemane. It may come in handy.
