Monday, June 1, 2020

I pass my landlord on the path through our front yard. As we say “Good morning” to each other, I crash into glass wind chimes hanging from a tree. I hadn’t noticed them before. The wind chimes are much louder than I would have guessed from their size. They continue to clatter and ring for at least a minute. I exit the yard, pet the cat that enjoys riding the swinging gate, and put on my earbuds. I don’t know for how much longer the wind chimes continue to ring. At the end of the day, a woman riding the southeast elevator with me drops her keys. They, too, are louder than I expect. The elevator is still lined with wood. The sound resonates differently and for longer than it would have in the other elevators made of metal and plastic. On my way home, I see that the door to my favorite shawarma joint is open. They had been closing much earlier during the lockdown. Inside, it looks like they may be done for the day. I start to leave, but the owner emerges from the back. He tells me that they still have shawarma, if I want it. I do. He brings a container of the meat back out and puts it on the grill. He cuts open a pita and puts hummus and other elements in it that haven’t yet been put away. I sit at a table outside. As I eat, he picks up other tables and chairs and carries them into the shop. I stand, looking to get out of the way and finish the shawarma elsewhere, but he waves and shakes his head. “No, no, sit and eat. There is still time.” When I’m done, I wave to him. We each say “Good evening.” I wander off to the bus stop. I get home quickly. The cat sees me coming and hops up on the gate to take a ride. I check the wind chimes as I pass them. Nothing is broken. I tap them gently. They continue to clatter and ring as I step inside.