I open my dry hands to receive more Purell before I lay my hands on the blue handle of the shopping cart at Walmart and wait my turn to enter the complete chaos of every aisle.
I don't know what I'm looking for: it's not toilet paper or Clorox, hand sanitizer or Dial,
Not the red Trident I deem most important to chew on while I work from home, and not any more snacks to stuff my face with as I watch the clock go by. Blue masks on otherwise readable neighbors, latex-free gloves on otherwise soft hands, elbows replacing handshakes, exchanging suspicious glances instead of sharing words: Discomfort is Everything Now. And so I take a long walk along the creek, I try to breathe in a normal breeze and let it revive me. A large gust of wind blows across my face and it feels good. A woman walking toward me throws her long arms up and smiles. She thinks so too. We have found ourselves in the breeze.
I like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me.
© 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.