Coronatime

I had been sitting at an outdoor table at my favorite coffee shop for what had seemed to be a very long time. Aimee’s is closed for the duration, of course, but I had to sit somewhere. I had brought a water bottle with we so I would have something with me to drink. It was water. In the past, I usually would have gotten the currant iced tea. Had it been last week? Last month? I was losing track of my days.

I just sat there in the shade of the building at my side on the sidewalk in the shade. I felt redundant. The wooden folding chair I was sitting on was a little bit uneven. I shifted it. It didn’t get any better. I tried to record some of the past week’s goings on in my journal. I stared as the blank page stayed blank.

If you can’t remember anything, does that mean nothing happened? Or maybe time has stopped? Or is it time that is passing you by? Am I waiting here for a bus that will never come? How long had I been sitting there, anyway?

How long had I been sitting there, anyway?  I had said that already.

Yesterday I thought it was Saturday. But it was only Wednesday. Or last week? Or next week?

We’re all living in coronatime now, people.

Limbo.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m even still actually alive. Actually still alive. What difference does it make? Are my eyes actually open, or is this all actually just a bad dream? Or both? And I keep hearing things.

Ground control to Major Tom. No. That was definitely last week. I think. Ground control to Major Tom. I wrote that in something I wrote last week. I think it must have been was another time when I was sitting here? I think it was last week. But I still keep hearing the refrain. “Do you hear me Major Tom? Do you hear me Major Tom? Do you hear me Major Tom ...” I’m pretty sure that was David Bowie. 1972. And I still hear the refrain going round and round in my head. And it's 2020.

I don’t know how to make sense of anything anymore.

I sat.

And as I sat there on a rickety chair not watching the world not go around, I thought I saw a young woman running by where I was sitting. She was wearing maroon spandex. One running shoe against the sidewalk. Then the other. A dark pony tail bobbing back and forth. And then she ran by again – only she was going the other way. Could that be right? Coming? Going? Is that how it’s supposed to work? Except that I was pretty sure that I saw her running in South Park on Wednesday. Or was it Saturday?

What difference does it make? Does it make any difference?  I am here. I think I am here. But I don’t know where I am. Or when.

It’s like getting hit by a bus. And then you stand up, a little dazed. But when you check yourself up and down nothing seems to be broken. And then you get hit by bus.

When will it stop? Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom?

I sat. Empty pages blowing down the empty street. No buses. Only young women running by.  Back and forth. Up and down. Coming and going. And one guy. He was hardly sweating. He just went by and I never saw him again.

The stores around me were all closed. The coffee shop was closed. Everything was closed. Maybe it was New Year’s Day and we were all just really hungover. Hunkered down. Waiting for the dull throbbing ache in our heads to subside.

Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom?

I had no idea how long I had been sitting there in front of my coffee shop? I looked down at my wrist watch to see if it might be time to go home for supper yet. But there was nothing on my wrist. Not for a hundred years. Nothing on my wrist. Nothing on my mind. Time had lost its meaning.

Limbo.

Nothing is real.

And then I thought I heard a marching band playing in South Park. I turned my head to look. The stoplight changed from red to green, but that was it. Nothing. I began to gather up my stuff. I couldn’t stay there at the Aimee’s. They were closed. And my water bottle was empty. I was sure I had heard something.

And then I heard it again. Voices. Drums. Cellos.

Nothing is real. And nothing to get hung about.

I held my phone up to my ear. It was the Beatles calling.

Strawberry Fields Forever  (Youtube Link) 

Listen to the song. If it makes you cry, you’re not dead yet. And if you don’t, maybe next time you will. Cry. All that we have now is Strawberry fields – forever.