The Twelfth

My cup of coffee lasts longer these mornings. I savor the dark dregs before abandoning the cup. I wonder if or when I will run out of coffee.

I am grateful for the morning phone call from a friend who arises earlier than I and is far more alert. Vida is aware I need a gentle nudge to begin my day.

I notice a printed menu has quietly appeared under my door announcing today’s somewhat limited but nutritional menu. I try to remember why I ordered ice cream yesterday. What is today’s verbiage? “My bad?” Who knows.

I linger over the NYT mini puzzle not worrying about wasting precious time. No longer a concern on this twelfth day of self isolation.

I almost regret finishing “APROPOS OF NOTHING” in one long gulp last night, but then there were chapters that brought tears of laughter. Beautifully written, it induced a rare good night’s sleep.

I muse about how days are now different and choices easier.

Debating any need for make up, I question how long it may be before I can replace the Chanel mascara I have used for decades? Does it still matter, or did it ever?

The clock alerts me to the hour. I see it’s almost time to decide about lunch despite having no hunger. I enter today’s food in Lose It, still regretting last night’s indulgence.

Remembering I haven’t recharged my Macbook Air, I postpone editing the new book. Again, does it matter?

Once more, I question the wisdom of another cup of coffee and then decide against it.

As I stand up to gaze out at the empty park, passages of a poem I learned in childhood come to mind. I find myself smiling as the gentle words leap into consciousness.

A brief buzz from the Ipad alerts me to an incoming message. Gladly, I open it until the sad words are absorbed.

The terse email informs me of my friend, Jane Monaghan’s, death. Sadly, I realize there can be no farewell funeral for a beloved woman who served her family, The Farmingdale Women’s Club and our St. Kilian’s parish for over half a century. Beautiful lady, Sleep well!

Instantly, I decide to indulge in that second cup of coffee on this twelfth morning of self isolation.

Hoping my phone will ring once more and the computer recharges quickly, I decide to have lunch a bit later. I will take time now to scan the NYT for new streaming choices.

Remembering a belief often quoted by an old friend, “Nothing is Forever,” I trust it includes self isolation. Then I fear it applies equally to the life I once knew.