Dark Four In Cascadia

Daily notes from a plague winter

November 28th

"Are you in line?" I finally ask, because the line moved and she didn't, and it's past the reasonable amount of time you give someone, and then the line moved again, and I can feel the other farmer's market shoppers behind me starting to get anxious.

"Yes! I'm distancing. In fact I'm giving a lot of distance, because it's what we all should be doing, it's so wrong that people think six feet is enough, when what I've read there's a lot of transmission that can happen if you're not at a much further distance, in fact there's just no way we can..."

She goes on, and I'm not really listening anymore, I'm feeling. Feeling like we need a global virtual hug network. Knowing the hardest thing is to be compassionate, and also not to enable, and also not to let anyone else's rants into my head, because they have a right to express them but not to impose on me.

A gentle nod and an awkward laugh sometimes is the best I can muster in these times. That, and to record it. This is the way it was. Two days after Thanksgiving, 2020.