Thursday, August 27th, 2020

I tear open a new bag of masks as I prepare to leave for work. It’s my second bag of fifty. I had thought my first one would last me as long as I could possibly need. I got that one a little over three months ago. At first, I used each mask for several days. Now, as the high temperatures hover at 90 Fahrenheit or above when I walk to work and back, I use a new one every day. These are generic surgical masks, packaged with a seal of authenticity from China. I keep thinking of getting something that looks better, perhaps a black mask with an appropriate image or pattern. But these are cheaper, all told, and work better. I’m OK with that. Going through the masks, I could keep count of the days of this never-ending summer. The shofar at the afternoon prayers tells me that autumn is about a month away. Otherwise, I might not know it. I’m told that the summer is harsher for others, what with hurricanes, the derecho, and wildfires across the US, and violence and the virus seemingly everywhere. Still, I grumble. But., heading out the door on the way to work, I find a piece of unripe fruit on my step. It’s some sort of citrus, green and pear-shaped. It may be a very early orange. Whatever it is, I take it as a sign: autumn is coming, should it ever decide to arrive.