Breathing

I miss our daily newspaper. Like many people, I suspect, I had not foreseen that the internet would see the end of local print. We quit taking the paper when it got down to only a few pages and the delivery service became sporadic at best. It was not a pleasant end, rather like an old friend slipping away until at last it was a mercy that they were gone. I miss scanning the headlines before turning to the comics and from there to page two and the local news and events. It is only recently that I have come to realize that aside from the tactile satisfaction of dealing with paper, often damp or annoyingly folded, I missed something larger, the feeling of community that it engendered. It was a source of common knowledge, available for discussion over coffee, or during morning break at work. I knew what my neighbors knew. That is no longer the case. The decline of the paper brought with it a decline in our sense of community.

Today is the twenty second day of social isolation for us. I read the daily OHA reports to see if there are any new cases here, or any deaths. Lydia and I talk about the numbers briefly. But leave it at that. We talk about cancelling our big summer trip down the Mississippi by steamboat. How long will the virus be out there? How safe would it be to take the train east, breathing recirculated air at our age? We talk to our children by phone more often and I sense a new level of relief and thankfulness in Lyd for having heard from them.

On the internet, communications have changed. The political wrangling of the past winter has given way to heartfelt sharing. Friends are exchanging pictures of family and of places they’ve traveled. Celebrities are sharing entertainments from their homes and offering free mini concerts. Talk of the virus is avoided.

The fabric of who we are, or more precisely, who have most recently been, seems to be changing, in a positive way, I hope. It feels like folks are reaching out for community again, feeling it lost. It is ironic that, in a time when we most need a hug and reassurance, we are kept from those who might provide it.

So, we breathe in and out and our hearts expand and contract, until they don’t anymore. Until then we try to love and be kind. From a distance we offer hugs and hope. Its who we are.

Blessings

 

Unwanted Travels