Saturday, April 4th, 2020
The flowering trees have outdone themselves in the quiet of this year’s odd spring.
Earlier tonight, locking my bike on Sullivan Street, I noticed the uppermost tapered part of the Empire State Building was red. I have seen that lighting before, but tonight it was pulsing. I’ve never seen that.
Translating the visual experience into language, the word “pulse” held my attention. Pulse indicated something steady to me, something calming in its regularity, but this flashing had a disturbed rhythm. Maybe they were testing the lights. Or perhaps there was a malfunction. I had to look away; it felt too much like the disjunction I am seeing and hearing about in people’s lives.
Now, after 1:00 AM with yams and potatoes roasting in my oven, it seems like a good time to mention the end of this project. All things have a beginning, a middle, and an end. Today, as the eighteenth Covid Entry is being written, the first Entry was mailed. Earlier today I had an idea for a parting image for this project. Perhaps the beginning foretells the end.
Speaking of plans and endings, I hope to end the uneventful saga of helping my mother update her will this afternoon. After minor revisions last year, the will was 98% complete in early January. Her interest in finalizing her will expanded as the local health situation worsened. It is a scary time for many, but being in your 90s adds numerous layers of concern. I could not have imagined the effort and planning required to arrange two witnesses for the one-minute-long signing. Nothing involving live humans is easy to accomplish these days.