It isn't time to stop wearing them completely. Not quite yet. (My Dad's nursing home. Young nieces. The immunocompromised.) But I want to celebrate because it’s time to wear them less. I’m picking one mask to compost in the garden. A favorite from the ones I’ve sewn? Black N-95? Baby-blue surgical? I can’t decide. It isn’t time to stop wearing them completely, not quite yet, so at most I’ll bury one. Memorial Day weekend. So I won’t forget the people who lost their jobs. Got sick. Three and a half million lost lives. I won’t forget. But I want to celebrate. It’s time to wear masks less. Now I’m wondering which kind of mask would break down fastest. Should I cut the elastic off first? Would the magic still work? Here’s why I’m not going to stop wearing masks completely, not quite yet: I don’t want to cause a single retail worker one split second of stress. Long ago, we buried my son’s placenta in the rhubarb. That spot means life. Thanks, dirt. Thanks, scientists. Thank-you Jesus we can wear masks less. And with this mask I am also burying any possible lingering regret. I didn’t write King Lear. Or bake bread. Or deep-clean. My brain was fried. It isn’t time to stop wearing masks completely. Not quite yet. But I am celebrating because it’s time to start wearing them less.
And yes, I do know that we celebrate Memorial Day OFFICIALLY to remember armed services members who gave their lives in service to our country. (I also know the difference between Memorial Day and Veterans Day, but honestly, if I want to say something nice about a veteran and I pick the wrong day and you correct me? I think you’re an asshole.) BUT LISTEN. MY GRAN’MOMMY ROANE USED TO PUT FLOWERS ON TOMBSTONES OF VARIOUS RELATIVES ON MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND, AND THEY WEREN’T VETERANS. So if I want to use the holiday to just remember something, I’m gonna.
Also note: this is my front porch office, which I like to refer to as the FPO. (I also have a BPO.) This is a nice big old stalk of rhubarb which I’ll admire out here for a day or so and then do something with. Other rhubarb this year has gone to friends, been bartered for a fabric stash, and is going this evening into a new baked beans recipe called Red Beans and Rhubarb (same basic sauce as normal, boring baked beans but w/ red beans & chopped rhubarb. It may be awful. I’ve made it up. Have never tried it.)
The big vase behind the rhubarb is a recent gift from my amazingly talented brother. The wooden cut-outs are a gift from him from long ago–each cloud does indeed have a silver lining.
Also, as for me and my house, we are fully vaccinated. Fully marinated. Or I wouldn’t consider going mask-less.
marniere 