Friday, May 1, 2020

“My Crickets: A Little Decameron #37”

So, so quiet—except for the endless drone of the television's CNN, which I haven't yet dragged over into my personal space.
      No mourning doves yet.
      Despite the reported return of natural life into our slightly departed world, it seems quieter this May 1st than Rachel Carson's description of it in her 1962 book Silent Spring.
      O, just one dove, at 5:45, has begun his early call. But then, like my cricket, suddenly stopped. Do these sentient beings realize our sudden abandonment of their world? The dove never returned to his cries.
      I read in yesterday's The New York Times that New Yorkers' were getting up later. Same thing here in Los Angeles. Some of our neighbors seem never to even see the day-light, with their blinds endlessly drawn, with no lights. Yesterday, I saw only one person from our complex, the Russian again airing his blanket upon his railing.
     In my look into nature, am I also losing contact with the humans with whom before I daily came together within space? If we were so busy rushing around previously that we hardly recognized one another, now we appear to be trapped within our own fearful nightmares, alone and desolate.
     I ran down to the check the mail early today, with my mask on, just to not have the encounter the lurking people around the corners, waiting for me to quickly leave.
     I've realized these past weeks just how much Howard and I do truly love and need one another.
     My cricket was busy for most the night, but I awoke him early this morning with a shower at 4:30, and he closed down his communications. Moreover, I forgot to give him his nightly tribute of impossible to eat food and water. His fortitude simply amazes me. Tomorrow, if he survives, will be the beginning of his 9th week sheltering in our house.
      Despite our best intentions, we retreated last night to a diet of Welsh rarebit, this made with a lovely Welsh cheese on Thomas' muffins.
      Yet neither of us was pleased with the meal, and we mutually agreed to lay off the unhealthy dish for a while--despite its luscious taste.
      Maybe tonight some Rao's chicken soup or Marie Calender's Roasted Turkey Breast and Stuffing? Neither is great cuisine. but I don't want to have Howard make a journey into the unknown for better and fresher ingredients.
      The pool lights just turned off. So quiet. So very quiet.

Los Angeles, May 1, 2020
Reprinted from Facebook (May 2020).

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