In the grand scheme of
things
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We are one
week plus days past our second vaccination shots and feeling great. Carol said,
“I wonder if the syringe had anything in it.
Ben sent me
a cartoon, unsigned, so I’ve no idea the artist. It depicts a stick figure
saying, “Hi. I’m here to visit!”
From behind
an open door, “Do I know you?”
“No. It’s
cool. I’m two weeks past my second dose.”
Below is a
blurb: Remember, once you’re fully vaccinated, the CDC says you’re free to
visit other people’s houses.
Well, it
resonated with me. I have lonely moments when I would knock on a stranger’s
door just to have somebody with whom to talk. Then my phone will ring or an
email from a friend will arrive, like the message with photo from Beth, whom I
met when she was pregnant with Hannah, now sixteen.
Those of us
fully vaccinated visit more frequently now, but we maintain masks and
distancing. That is by our choices. Carol and I feel particularly vulnerable,
both by age and general health.
I’m glad I
live here in central Mexico during this pandemic, where I practically live outdoors
nine months of the year. I make it sound perfect, don’t I? It’s not. Wherever
one happens to be is perfect as it gets, if one can only see that. Every place,
every life, has flaws.
Yesterday
Janet was over for a short patio visit. I mentioned the summer rains, which
seep inside our houses which are built like sieves. Every storm makes me rush
around putting towels on window sills and in front of my door.
Janet said,
“And the critters come inside through the cracks. Scorpions. Ants. Mosquitoes.”
I would round that out with “Silverfish.” One day a small lizard creeped into
my living room.
Finding
obscure things is frustrating. I placed an order for Melita coffee filters,
which I may never see. This is one of the few items I can’t find. Order placed.
Order sent. Order mis-placed? I won’t go
into details, but ordering anything from the States is fraught with
opportunities for the ordered item to go astray. I’m prepared to throw up my
hands and do without.
John and
Carol and I, just this morning, talked about the problems with ordering
clothing and shoes online. “Don’t,” is my brief advice. There are things I’ve
learned not to buy until I can hold them in my hands, see the quality, and try them
on for fit. I’ll do without.
No matter
where I live, I’m not ready to go out into the big wide world shopping. Yet. So
if I go without a few specialty items such as Melita coffee filters, no big
whoop. New clothing? I’m not near to naked yet.
Critters?
Every place has invasive critters. If I were with my daughter in Montana,
mosquitoes are just as dangerous there as here. I’d trade coral snakes for
rattlesnakes. If I were in Washington with my son, the more likely pests would
be raccoons, mold and mildew.
Here I have
year-round flowers and my bucket garden for lettuce, herbs, beans, zucchini and
such. Along with squirrels and iguanas.
It seems as
if all at once, there are fewer birds, the morning chorus lacking several
voices. I know they don’t all just up and leave one fine morning. But my
noticing happened today.
I also have
daily doses of dust and smoke from fires on the mountain. Sounds much like
Montana.
Are any of
these things problems? Of course not. In the grand scheme of life, they are
inconveniences. And minor ones at that.
However, if
one fine day you hear a knock at your door and find a stranger, a dowdy, rather
kooky-looking woman standing there telling you she feels it’s safe to visit, it
might be me.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
May 6, 2021
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