Whereas before I would be in some other country, now I am in the comfort of my study. Travelling the world has been exchanged for walking from the bedroom to the bathroom. Train journeys have become tootles around the block and jet planes are just pie in the sky.
We grow, we shrink. Our bodies expand on the in-breath and contract on the out. What we were before is gone and what we are now is a downsized dream. Where will we be in a year’s time? It depends. Some parts of life will be calm and quiet and others will have tipped over the edge into insanity. Who’s to tell which of us will be up and which one south.
I know one thing, though – chocolate will still taste good. Whether we get it will be another matter. Travel corridors shorten and the time it takes to travel will lengthen. We’ll be home more than away and the new norm will be darker or paler than the one before.
Then again, this might be the last crisis ever. We might pick ourselves up, learn our lessons and then move on at an enlightened pace. We could finally say enough is enough and just do things properly from now on. Chances are that we need to.
I’m Robert and I’m sitting on the futon in the study and talking out of my thumbs. Of course everything and everyone is going to be okay. How could it not be! This cushion is as soft as it ever was and the traffic swishes by as it ever did. The sun will rise, the rain will fall and the grass will grow – why the heck shouldn’t it? Time flies like an angel. Thoughts leave us to circumvent the universe. Life does what it always does: it comes and goes, ebbs and flows. And we remain as we always were: flotsam and jetsam on the beach – taking in the sun and the scenery. Why not come visit me? Kettle’s on – what’s your poison, my friend?
Oh, wait – maybe we should wait a while. At least until … until … until …