√ A Night time Walk With The Virus
The generosity of people never stops. Even during a global pandemic. A nighttime walk leads to proof of this in the form of an unexpected gift.
Lifestyle changes have become common.
I work in a small town outside of San Diego. Hard to find. Even the name, Escondido, means “hidden” in Spanish.
I’m at my office fourteen hours a day because I am now living with the 85 year old mother of a good friend. The friend has asked me to keep a social distance from his mother.
So I volunteered to be gone from 6am until 8pm.
In these times, it’s just what you do. But I’ve got a few hours to burn, particularly in the evenings. Clients are online. Streets are empty.
So last night, I took a walk.
I’ve been walking for exercise. I started yoga but it’s harder than I’d like right now. I try to time my walks in the daytime. There’s at least a little life outside. The day was busier than I expected. So I took a walk at night.
My evening began with a symphony of din.
The nighttime walk fits new words into a condition without description: There is no hum of existence. Footsteps sound ambivalent. Your ears are surrounded with flat, lifeless air, maybe a teaspoon of leftover breath.
The wind wonders why it even bothers.
When I left my office, distinct were the lights of one car, red dots dropping over a hill. Looking outward, nothing else approached, no steps faded in the distance. The explosion of the virus has emptied the streets, but left the buildings standing silent.
I made it to the end of the block, rounded the corner, and saw a dim flicker in a vacant restaurant. Walking further, I noticed a table and a chair tethered to the storefront.
I was greeted by a black meshed steel table.
Both the black table and the white chair were attached to steel cables and the cables attached to the wall.
Firm fixtures. Open invitations. A gentle welcome in the dimming of the day.
On the table was a note that read, “Free fruit.” They were oranges, about eight or so, sliding toward one side.
I sat in the white chair, picked up an orange, and began peeling. Darker, quieter came the night. And I sat and breathed what air remained. I felt that warmth of humanity, of that perfectly beautiful statement of grace.
I found selflessness within a profound challenge.
The chair, the table, the nighttime and the orange. business is empty and closed, and yet their generosity remained.
A Note From My Heart
I walked through the night and kept looking as the sun set on the emptiness.
I found evidence of humanity, generosity, and friendship and love.
We’re still here.
Our hearts still beat.
And our Love will overcome!
You can print the photo above, of a black table, oranges and a white chair, as proof.