When I arrived at the park, I tried to remember if it was my first time in the new year. I was pretty sure it was, but I had some doubts, too. Somehow, it was already the middle of January. A big chunk of the new year had already vanished. Exactly what had I been doing, if not going to the park?
As always, the park looked very much the same as I remembered, and very different, too. For one thing, the heather was in bloom.
The landscape was dotted with burlap wind fencing. I remembered a few years ago when the heather was blooming through the snow and I wrote a piece about how beautiful it was for an online magazine. I thought about how the online magazine no longer exists, but how the heather is still blooming. I wondered if I identified more with the online magazine or with the heather.
Lately I've been worrying about what life will be like when the pandemic is over. I think back to my pre-pandemic life -- the one where I sometimes met people and went places -- and I'm not sure how I managed to fit everything in. These days, even though I never meet anyone or go anywhere that can't be reached on foot, I still feel pressed for time.
The thought of adding anything in makes me nervous. How will I manage it? What will I leave behind? How will the cats react?
I wondered if any of this anxiety would be relieved if I were more optimistic about the external world.
What if, in this pandemic, I've been hoarding time in the same way that the rich have been hoarding money?
I love this
Posted by: Edith Zimmerman | 01/16/2021 at 05:03 PM