Life in times of....

This is a morning that was meant to be beautiful.  I open the shutters onto a quiet neighborhood, but here  it is always quiet, even at 9:00 on a Friday, when many of those who have work and school routines are already out.  I can hear the birds outside, busy at their communication, but again, that is the way it always is.  We’ve had days of zero rain, perfect sun - perfect to hang out blankets and clean laundry and soak in our 15 recommended minutes per day – but in the reservoirs of the city, levels are dropping,  a warning that even that simplest of pleasures may carry ill omen.   I don’t want to read the news this morning, need to preserve some morning calm and the chance to throw myself into my pages, for at least several hours, but somehow have not been able to block the British scandal sheet that pops up from time on my screen, always with the worst of it all. (Which celebrities have succumbed, soaring number of new cases, delusions of cure...)  I grab a sweatshirt  from my open wardrobe, so proudly finished last year, after over 20 of living in this house we  built, but rather than admiring my persistence or its design, or admonishing myself over the ease with which my organization turns into mess, I wonder about the dresses that are hanging there, the folded sweaters, the pairs of different colored jeans, the two suitcases nestled away on the overhead shelves, and wonder when I will ever use any of this again.  Last night I dreamt that two very dear friends from a Central American country had come to visit me, and how I was torn between the joy and the apprehension of their surprise arrival.  And when I awoke, I thought of my niece, caught in the newest epicenter of the crisis, and of the rising red alert. And about how despite the fact I have envied the friends who live out the country surrounded by their dogs and horses and almost able to live “life as usual” (inveja da boa, as we say around here!) I am still in this little corner where the birds always sing, and it is always quiet, and we can almost feel that it is just an  ordinary morning, and go on with our work – and for now,  that makes us lucky.