I walk in the evenings after I finish my work. I try to get things done before the sun sets so I have at least a few minutes to enjoy the light. Most evenings I walk towards the sea, through the dunes.
I can't run anymore. A bad leg injury two years ago has left me quite unable to do anything beyond a casual stride, and I always feel a little nostalgic when I see runners on the trail, a little jealous. But the walking is good, too.
Tonight I wasn't quite finished with work when I left. The world was getting dark as I made my way outside. I walked to the Dunes, careful to avoid people on the path, keeping the designated distance. I don't know if I have anything. I don't know if they do. But I don't want to be responsible for inadvertently killing anyone.
These are strange times, and the rules we all agreed to, the paradigms we all thought were so important, have broken apart.
I listened to the sea, pressed my feet into the wet sand. And I talked to god.
It feels wrong to ask god for any personal favors. Why on earth should I think my case is special? The idea feels obscene. There are so many people suffering right now, so many people mourning the loss of loved ones, so many first responders, doctors and nurses on the front lines. My prayers go to them.
I am lucky, and I know it.
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