Tuesday, April 20, 2021


The Condos at the end of the Cul-de-Sac    


“See you at the mail box,” I say to my friends when we speak on the phone. Neighbors we are, one on my left, one on my right, three widows, with me in the middle sharing a condo wall with each.  The Merry Widows. Or we were.


a little tipsy

senior decorum slips

with a bawdy tale


Lunches, dinners, shopping. Impromptu gatherings for coffee with freshly baked cookies. All that was before. Before our advanced years and vulnerability made us cautious, made us retreat and pull back, keeping our contacts to the essentials. We keep in touch by phone and emails, gripe, worry, encourage. On occasion we meet outside at the mailboxes, short meetings, voices raised  so as to hear words spoken at a distance and through a mask. 


“What’s new? Saw the doctor. Ordered online. Catch you tomorrow.”


 It’s not enough, but we endure and hope. I collect my mail and retreat, but with a lighter step.


slow cooker

for one or a dozen

it’s about the wait





Sandy said...

Your life sounds a lot like mine! I comb my hair and put on lipstick when I see the mail truck. Lots more people are walking the circle this year. We call it doing the social loop.

my cloth order came
time to start summer sewing
and flowery masks

Adelaide said...

Hi Sandy,

Someday. . .we shall look upon this and not laugh, but just be thankful it's over


Sandy said...

True, but I have say that I laughing as I read this!

Bill said...

pandemic passing
I ask my wife again
what day it is

One day at a time, whatever day it happens to be.

Blessings, Adelaide

Adelaide said...

Thanks, Bill. Blessings to you, too.


Magyar said...

__ Haibun-tifull: again, your thoughts so often parallel the reader's wonder! _m

Adelaide said...

Thanks, Doug.