Yep, it’s been seven months (and a few days) since Dr. Fauci announced the quarantine. Spring and summer have come and gone, and our overnight temperatures are below freezing here in Portland. Winter is heading our way.
Many things have changed, for certain. Shakespeare in the Parks, big band concerts on the grass, and theatrical performances of any kind are a sweet, distant memory. Eating in restaurants, chatting with friendly waiters and total strangers, is now pretty much unthinkable. Cheering for the Pickles or the Thorns would be the height of social irresponsibility.
And travel to Paris? Out of the question. Totally. Big, heavy sigh.
Even going to visit family, sitting on a sofa and playing games with grandkids, just isn’t going to happen anytime soon.
But many things, important things, are still with us. Love, even at a distance, is still love. Watching you decorate a cookie house via ZOOM or walking a corn maze with the cousins is a reminder of who I am and what ties I have in this world. Waking up and having coffee with Auntie Bridgett. Doing crosswords and taking walks with Grandpa Nelson. Watching horror movies and baking shows.
I guess all this is to say that we are still holding on, seven months into the lockdown. We wear our masks and social distance and try to be patient with take-out.
Fall will officially be here in just two weeks, and the weather is still hot and dry. Walking is limited to the evening because of 90 degree temperatures in the daytime.
After dinner yesterday we walked south passing one of our favorite neighborhood landmarks, Fort Awesome. It’s a house.
We continued to Sewallcrest Park, where we saw adult kickball last year. There were lots of other folks out enjoying the evening.
There were two groups of soccer players, a young ladies’ team and what seemed to be a men’s pick-up game (they asked Grandpa Nelson if he wanted to play), both playing half-field. When the ladies were finished, the men moved to the center and used all the space.
There was a group of older men playing basketball, making good shots and passes but wisely taking lots of breathers and drinks of water in between.
Besides these organized games, there was the usual nappers, dog walkers, and joggers. A mom and her daughter rolled by on skateboards. The sunset turned the light pink and everything was magical.
On the way home we enjoyed special Eastside Portland views; the sun going down at the end of Hawthorne Street, an old car enjoying new life as an art piece, and front yard chickens, being chickens.