Last Woman on Earth

I am the last woman on earth.

I live alone in my house and every day I do the Schedule:

yoga, coffee, meditation, breakfast, look out the window, laundry,

make the bed,

take a shower, take a walk, lie on the floor, wait for the dogs to

jump on me, eat stuff from the fridge,

gaze into it awhile. Brush my hair.

Add blush. Add mascara after thinking about how long it will take

to remove later.

No lipstick.

Yesterday I considered a small glass of red wine with breakfast.

I can’t remember the day.

My neighbor’s new dog barks

enough to make napping problematic.

I drink a lot of tea with half and half and maple syrup which is

tastier than sugar.

After 6 my garage is a café for friends

and dinner comes in white cardboard boxes. We slip food under

our masks like horses with feed buckets or dogs with muzzles.

We are dreamers who believe

next month will bring hope back and neighbors come

two by two

like passengers on Noah’s Ark

run aground and have a hard time leaving.

I’m glad for the distraction and for the wine and anesthesia.

I don’t tell anyone about the hopelessness.

In Reality Travel Doesn’t Measure Up

                        In Reality Travel Doesn’t Measure Up

For the longest time I thought I might become someone else. I also thought I might live somewhere else. I could be Norwegian and learn the language well  so people would say how no one could tell I wasn’t a native. I like the sounds of their desserts.

Or I could be a lawyer wearing crispy tight suits with very high heels and click click click across the court room floor stating my case and always winning.

Rootless like a malformed carrot I would refuse to flourish in one place. I know this was a problem this rootlessness.It prevented me from applying myself to much of anything: love, housekeeping, friendship, home repair… you get the story. I kept a suitcase filled with cash hidden in my house and a bag packed with essentials which changed from month to month.

Now my rootlessness fits right in. No one is going anywhere but everyone would like to be rootless. I wonder if after we finally figure out this virus and we are free again if everyone will prefer being rootless? After all, being imprisioned at home for over a year can drive even a boring person crazy.

Where will I go when I can go anywhere? I think at this point my first stop would be Hawaii because I can’t get the music of palm trees out of my head.I often thought it would’ve been a perfect place to live full-time. Like Eloise, I could move into the Four Seasons Hotel on the Big Island and just go down to dinner every night sitting at the bar overlooking the ocean generously tipping the bartender so that he always saved my seat. Reading a terrific novel all during dinner while drinking wine and eating sushi would be heaven right now.

And oh yes there is the spa in all those hotels and the spa always has palm trees with leaves that rattle above your hut while you are having a massage. Preferably a Lomi Lomi massage. I still don’t know what that means but I love them. I have entertained myself all day by thinking of places I would like to go when I can go anywhere. Frankly, it may be better in my imagination. That’s been a life long problem of mine and one I intend to keep as it’s so useful.