Saturday, October 10th, 2020

I head out for an afternoon walk at 6 PM. It’s later than I intended. It’s getting dark. I planned to do too many things today. Each has taken too long. I still haven’t gotten to some of them. Outside, the streets are quiet. It’s the last day of the holidays, but it’s hard to tell. While outside of the country, today’s a solemn holiday followed by a joyous one tomorrow, here they happen on the same day. It’s also the Sabbath, but that doesn’t complicate things much. Today's morning prayers would normally take much longer than usual. As part of the joyous holiday, congregations dance outside, carrying torah scrolls from synagogue to synagogue. Not today. With the lockdown, few synagogues are having services. No one can go between places that are more than a kilometer apart. At dusk, the city square is busy. No shops are open but families swarm about. I sit silently on a stone wall, observing. Many of the people go past me on wheels: baby carriages, strollers, tricycles, scooters, bicycles, skateboards, walkers, and wheelchairs. The caregivers and the elderly gather at the front of the square. The dance party hasn’t started yet. I expect to see the usual Saturday evening protest. One woman stands by the curb. She may be waiting for others. Another younger woman walks past with a flag, but she doesn’t stop. When night has fallen, I get up and head back. The Sabbath cafe is dark. In theory, they’re doing deliveries, but the chain may be handling them from a central kitchen. As I turn the corner onto the pedestrian street, a family passes me with flags, balloons, and protest signs. Democracy proceeds as usual. I could join in, but I have cooking to do.