So today I ventured out of the house – for the thrill of driving, for the chilly fresh air floating over my mask. I even thought about warbling “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”
Except I couldn’t find the roads as I knew them in March, before we closed down.
My shoe store was gone. So were my little spice store, the little hairdresser, the little knickknack shop with the cutesy name. Instead, I saw sagging buildings and deserted lots. I felt abandoned.
What does it do to our psyches when our physical world goes awry? It can be a delight, the way cataract surgery lets you see brilliant colors again. It’s your personal “Wizard of Oz.”
But today’s changes are more like the aftereffects of a tornado.
My house is still standing, and my personal Toto (my cat) is still yowling. Some of us are as furious as Dame Van Winkle. Others are as disoriented as the headless horseman.
And I don’t know my own hometown anymore. I feel like a fossil. And in real life there’s no yellow brick road.
