Day The Ninth

Weekend passing in a flourish, fresh air in though the balcony door, Mirriam’s goodbyes to Kingfisher, the 1000 piece puzzle done, and the Inch delivery of coffee and chips.  The laziness as antidote to captivity, and the ongoing delays of this time of the virus.  Shall we emerge in time for next St. Patrick’s Day at the stomping ground of history?  What a celebration it shall be.

News today from Dad about the passing of an Uncle who has been out of mind and story for awhile.  Strange to imagine his age when interwoven in your childhood memories.  19 years ahead, and so all the teenage years saw him younger than you are now.  The basement movies and video games and windjammers.  A laugh that was contagious and always carried hints of danger that ended up being realized.  All too tragically, for him, in the end.  

Raise a glass for the memories, to mortality, as the sun soon sets on a night that would make for good sailing in warmer temperatures.  Five days until liberation, looking forward to that long walk.  The Arsenal wins helpful in powering through, and Trump at CPAC still to come to offer a glimpse of the angered insanity that so nearly might have been.

All told, another weekend under the state of emergency.  What is the endgame?  We must wait, but let’s hope it soon brings the wife across the oceans.