I finished my mask so I went out to restock milks and produce from Alibaba up on the Bowery. A lady ran into me in line. It's so small. How is it even possible to not get sick getting groceries? Everyone tried to stay six feet apart. We took turns in each aisle but by taking turns to get dry goods we were less than six feet apart from the others waiting in line to check out.
Walking home, panicking about the insides of my coat pocket and my wallet and why did I wear my long coat cause now its covered in whatever was on the shopping basket. And yet I keep thinking about all the times in my life when I've been more panicked. About the weeks and months following 9/11-- me, a near teen, fully 3,000 miles away, sleeping on the floor of my parents room, waking up screaming replaying the scene that I didn't even see because we didn't have a tv. But the radio was enough to haunt my [lack] of sleep for well over a year. And for years before that the war movies my brothers and dad insisted on watching cause they outnumbered me and I needed to prove that I was tough and I totally liked them too-- wwii haunting my [lack] of sleep for years. And now, and now, I live here. In New York City. The place my dad tried to comfort me by saying we were 3,000 miles away from it. That no one would crash a plane into Tacoma, Wash. And now everything is cancelled--everything "hasn't been cancelled since World War Two" - every news source and radio host 24/7. The world held hostage.
Before bed the other night bambi sat up and said,
"I have a sad story to tell you. The germs are holding our door shut. It's horrible. In the streets, more and more and more."
-coronavirus interpreted by a three year old.
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