The Smell of Home Baked Bread

komorebi 5/24/20

Apparently a murderer was walking in my woods the other day. Right now I am honestly more worried about the people having parties without social distance then showing up in my woods and spitting hello at me with their maskless faces. I am pretty sure I can outrun a meth head, but I've heard that SARS-COV-2 does track repeats.

When I run the birds have things to say. Not that I think this has anything to do with me and this is why it makes me so happy. The birds are perfectly content to sing. The suns rays are split by redwoods and banana slugs linger on the path like some kind of cartoon drawn by a five year old. When I run, the mud splatters from late spring rains and fading purple irises sit path side. 

Every time my husband sneezes, I shout "CORONAVIRUS". I am fairly certain he is tired of this. Nonetheless he keeps baking bread, making pies, shaping Choux. I shelter in a bistro in Paris or what I imagine a bistro in Paris to be since I have never been to Paris and at this point such travels are seeming unlikely, unwise, unnecessary.

As a world class worrier, I lose sleep over, and over.

Yo-Yo Ma played all of the Bach cello suites in a live performance this weekend. Live in the sense that he sat down with his cello and his magnificent brain and played them, all six of them, for anyone who was able to tune in. There must've been a sound guy there too, at least to set it up. It was incredibly intimate, this man playing Bach alone in a studio, to thousands or maybe millions of viewers. Maybe trillions. Should've been trillions. Solace, comfort, skill, and words and music to remind us we are bound together. Music 300 years old and yet sounding shockingly modern at moments. 

Today (ironically, Memorial Day) a lot of people seemed to decide the virus isn't really a thing anymore. Gosh, gee I hope they are right. 

I mean it isn't really a thing as long as you are not famous

Unless you are John Prine or Adam Schlesinger or Ellis Marsalis.

I mean it isn't really a thing as long as you are not old.
Unless you have a child who gets sick and maybe dies.

I mean it isn't really a thing as long as you believe in freedom and God.
Unless someone at church is sick and might not even know it yet.

I do feel for people who are truly stuck at home. I "get" to go to work every day. Where I tend to sick people and lose sleep over, and over again.

When I run I notice the Ravens click-clacking, croaking, gurgling. The thrush whistles once or spins up a wild scale. Woodpeckers tap-tap-tap on trees, they have a secret knock and someone lets them in maybe for a worm and beetle party or something. Top secret. Forget-Me-Nots never sing but they whisper and make you look at them when they could otherwise so easily be missed. "Psst, running lady, down here. Watch out for that murder guy."

Komorebi makes my heart ache for something it misses but cannot quite remember in so much detail. A feeling also evoked by the smell of home baked bread. A feeling also evoked by my practically grown child's laughter while watching her favorite Korean drama. A feeling also evoked when sitting on a kitchen stool watching Yo-Yo Ma play Bach on youtube. A feeling also evoked by the way I want to hug my friends but just at the moment I cannot.

Because, science.
The truth, it is murder.