A soldier with circular spectacles, corporal’s stripes on his sleeve and khaki shorts on, walks toward a stationary camera. He smiles as he acknowledges the commotion around him. Glasses clink. There’s a general hubbub of voices in friendly conversation. He’s in a military pub – circa 1940s – and stops in a kind of selfie-framing attitude and speaks right to camera.
“Hello, Joy. How’s this for a wartime miracle?” he begins. “And a novel way of saying, ‘I love you.’” (more…)
I needed the contact, the conversation. Anything. So, I stopped at his front walk, so that a friend and I could talk – keeping physical distance – about how each other’s family was faring. We moaned about the weather and the isolation. We tried to stretch the human connection as long as possible. But all too soon, we had to bring our chat to an end. I wished him well.
“It’s back to the garden,” he said.
I smiled and nodded as I left, because he like I has found himself spending a lot of this spring’s lockdown time in his backyard. (more…)