I put on the mask my mom made the other day and a set of gloves and head into the grocery store. I hate the way the mask feels, so steamy, my glasses fogging up.
I’ve never liked stuff on my face. Even on the coldest nights when we were camping, I kept my face out of my sleeping bag.
Milk, ice cream, half n half, New York Times: a dairy-heavy grocery list today. Back in the car I pull the mask down to my chin and head over to my parent’s place. I walk down the driveway and around to the front deck and knock on the window. My 87 year old mom puts on her coat and comes out to sit at one end of the picnic table with me at the opposite end. My dad sits on the other side of the glass eating apple pie at the dining room table. He doesn’t understand why I don’t come in anymore, he never will.
This is how it is.
This is how it will be until there’s a vaccine.