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COVID-19 and Black Friday ’20

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and today I woke up almost unable to talk. Laryngitis, or was it COVID-19 come calling?

As I type these words, I don’t know the answer to the question. I have spoken to my doctor’s nurse and am awaiting the doctor’s call.

In the background I can hear cars streaming along I-20 in a rush to Black Friday sales, events somewhat curtailed this year, but present nonetheless. At the convenience store yesterday, I waded through an unmasked crowd to buy something I could have lived without.

Just now got the call back from my doctor and he said it doesn’t sound like COVID-19 symptoms to him. He’s calling in some medicines for me and I am to check in with him next week if things take a turn for the worse.

Dodged a bullet?

I don’t really know yet.

Either way it goes any dodging is only temporary.

I suppose it’s a matter of perspective. But the only place we can stand is with our feet planted in finitude, a wind-blown, wave-shattered outcropping on the edge of a dark ocean.

Either that or with our feet in the roaring stream where there is neither life nor death, knowledge nor ignorance, tomorrow nor yesterday.

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