at the point

I've felt so frustrated this week. A couple of people in my life have given me advice on how I should be feeling about the pandemic and lockdown and life, and I'm not here for it.

*

I can't change how I'm feeling. I can change how I react to it, but that's for me to decide.

*

I wish many days that I'd hear from the younger members of my family, but they don't seem to understand this part of being in a family. That a kind, unsolicited word would mean something, everything, that it would be so welcome, that on some days it is nearly necessary.

And yet, no. Nothing.

I guess one's future looks bleak when there are more years ahead of you than behind you, but who's to say where any of us is on the continuum?

A week ago, my uncle's life ended abruptly and I thought today, did he know, this time last week? Did he have an inkling that it was his last day on the planet?

The last time I saw him was at my grandmother's funeral dinner, sitting at a table among family, yukking it up.

*

Today, I popped into the liquor store down the block for bitters. A sign on the door instructs anyone wearing a mask to go stand in front of the security camera for a second, mask down, before shopping.

I hadn't thought about the conundrum of masks and security.

Privilege.

The three of us inside dutifully pulled down our masks, stared at the overhead camera, then put them back up and commenced the awkward dance of navigating the narrow aisles of liquor. Behind the counter, the Sikh clerk waited. Off to the side, a delivery person waited too, bored.