Shelter in Place, San Francisco, December 9, 2020
From my stationary bike this morning I saw spots of bright red in the garden straight behind us. I headed out with my telephoto lens to investigate, and realized they are the annual exotic flowers of a large aloe (ours rarely blooms, why is that?) which, now they’re here, should last for months - a hidden bright spot in the distance.
Every day the vaccine news fluctuates as does my mood - inoculations begin in England, a return to semi-normal is promised by the spring, counterbalanced by the death toll grinding on and upward. The news that the Trump administration did not order enough vaccine, and that the distribution hurdles are immense add their own uncertainties. I can’t keep up and the effort is not good for my mind and heart. Where do we fit in the queue and when will enough folks be inoculated to lower our risk and send us out the door? When will our children be able to get on with their lives? Better to concentrate on what I have and can count on in the present - love and companionship at home, support from friends and family across the globe, connections, art, music. Love. Life happens, ready or not, vaccine or no. And whatever looms out there in the distance, I will wait and, as always, count on love.