It's Still Life

Masking

A new face mask arrived in the post today.
It wasn’t a surprise – I ordered it online.
Took a photo of it with my phone, and
sent it to Alison, my next door neighbour.

“Cute print!“ she WhatsApped me back.

(she’s outside my shielding bubble; we
haven’t hugged in 6 months; we shout
back and forth over the fence; mostly
WhatsApp though; public shouting
isn’t very British-like).

Is it comfortable, she wants to know.

As if a strip of metal pressed against
the bridge of your nose could be cosy,

(unlike sitting by a log fire sipping hot
cocoa in January while it’s blowing
a hooly blizzard outside),

and I type back, “Yes. Very.”
Because it is. Best of all it doesn’t
steam up my glasses, which the other
14 masks in the junk drawer did

(or is that do, no maybe that’s did
because I don’t wear those anymore;
that’s why they’re in the junk drawer.)

Past tense it is – I met up at the pub
with old friends the day before yesterday,

(who really are older than me, so they’re
truly old friends. They make me feel
young, and reckless, and springy),

and I had a bite of lunch and a half pint
of Old Sussex Ale. First time in 6-months
that I’ve had a meal out, and yes, it was
absolutely safe with the social distancing,
and I scanned a QR code for Covid tracing,

(but I had reservations about the mackerel.
I chewed on the possibility of food poisoning –
it was undercooked. Capable of swimming.)

Alison’s husband is a retired heart surgeon.
He’s painting his garage doors today, masked
off all the white woodwork with painter’s tape.
He bought a crate of those blue surgical masks,
a 1,500 count crate, for Alison to wear outside.
I’m hopeful this pandemic wouldn’t last that long.

(I think it might however; it’s gone viral.)

I WhatsApped my 3-year old granddaughter,
Luisa, who lives in Bogotá. She speaks both
English and Spanish. Mixed. Spanglish.

“No colegio. Bad bugs. Bad bugs,” she said,
her voice muffled by her pink Frozen face mask.

I showed her my new flowery face mask that
the postman delivered today. She said it was
“lindo” — or maybe she said it was “linda”.

My cousin’s name is Linda. She’s beautiful.

I went for my daily walk today. Wore my new
face mask, and felt just like Judy Garland
must have felt in the movie “Easter Parade”,
although I have never watched that movie.

a dVerse Stream of Consciousness. © Misky 2020 Image is from the British Museum collection of masks. 

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