Lockdown 106

Lockdown Day 106 - 10 July 2020

This morning, after our quick windy walk, we had a few errands to run, whereafter we decided to visit Coffeetalks for a brilliant coffee in an inspiring garden. Not only did Wickus deliver, the garden did as well. A few blueish peacock feathers, a pure white duck feather and a satisfying warming flat white later, we returned home. 

The eminent cold front was showing itself. The wind had stirred up a hazy hue of dust in the air, and the temperature was strangely warm and moist. Just like before it starts to snow. The air smelled vaguely of fresh rain, signalling some sort of precipitation on its way. The only thing that still had to happen was the arrival of clouds. 

Later, I noticed the clouds rolling in, filtering out the sun's heat and light. Suddenly the day turned grey, just like Europe in the winter. I was reminded by a trip we took many years ago to Europe, while visiting family in the Netherlands. The grey days made it look like black and white photographs. 

I remembered how "free" the world was back then. I suppose I can use another word such as different in stead of free. But then it would diminish the severity of the impact of this abominable virus on all of us. Especially now, since we are experiencing the same as Italy and Spain, amongst others. I find myself envying places such as Mauritius and Namibia who claim to be "clean" and 'open' for travelers with a negative test. 

I remembered the sounds of bustling old cities with rich historical value, the smell of local cuisine and  the taste 

of melt-in-the-mouth

confectionery and of course Glűhwein!  My small cup of Glűhwein tonight is just a little thing I do to remember. But it can in no way at all substitute the feeling of holding a fresh cup of Glűhwein on (a white) Christmas day at -7 degrees in Berlin, or the onset of icy raindrops and snow in a Christmas market below the Eiffel Tower in Paris, or nursing the after effects of swimming in the sea in the famous Nieuwjaarsduik  

event on New Year's 2010 on Scheveningen Beach in Den Haag. 

So tonight I choose to forget for a moment about loadshedding on a Lockdown Friday night (really Mr Prez?), about a world hijacked into isolation by a virus. I choose to forget about all things online and virtual and go outside to look for the moon between the clouds and allow the wind chill factor to touch my skin. 

And I thank God for my family, friends and good health. I thank God for all the memories alive in my heart that keep me going. And as the moon comes into sight and spills into the green room, I feel human and alive. Cold, but so very alive. Thank you God for getting me. I get You, too. Because You're the only One who's got this.