March 26, 2020

Mother has been dead 46 years. She died at age 49. Each year the numbers grow more absurd. I can scarcely think of her without thinking of the myriad ways in which I might have been a better son.

Shopped today, and since I didn’t really need anything, bought mostly chocolate, which I don’t actually like. At the liquor store you tell them what you need and they bring it to you, so you don’t touch anything. Went to Reems Creek Nursery, which was doing a lively business, everyone getting the last of their gardening supplies before Buncombe County’s total isolation measure goes into effect tonight. I secured a truckload of mulch and one Mexican sage bush.

I always mistrust displays of government power, though it’s hard to argue against the necessity of this one. Is there a normal to go back to now?

In touch with Sam.

Warm, beautiful day. I spent part of it just standing in my garden, as though some narcotic power had come out of the daffodils and made it impossible to move.

I could certainly die of this. On the other hand, I could certainly have died of any of a number of things.  Best to keep moving forward with as much caution as still falls short of morbidity.