Saturday, April 18, 2020

CORONA VIRUS

The days are not so bad, the evenings of this enforced isolation, are beginning to take their toll. Talking heads on television; I don’t want to watch but my curiosity, my desire to know, my fears for my family in New York and other doomed areas of this land get the better of me. This is a war against a previously unknown enemy. As a child in London, I knew who the enemy was; in retrospect it was awful, but now, all those years later, this pandemic seems worse. The numbers of those infected, the rising lists of deaths, the race to find a vaccine in the hands of scientists – not mine, not the politicians, but those who we trust to save us in the future.
I know I am fortunate to be able to look out my window onto a lake where ducks glide and the occasional cormorant dives. To see a turtle ease it’s way on to a rock to bathe in the sun. A crow sits on the branch of a pine tree – even he stays quiet. I’m told just a few feet away a goose sits on her eggs while her mate occasionally leaves to find sustenance for his wife. Soon those eggs will hatch and the family will come to visit me, just outside my window, the window that keeps me calm during the day, but stays far too dark at night.
                                                   Patricia Friedberg