Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

I finished my postcards to voters in Georgia yesterday and walked down to mail them. The box is in front of the grocery store seven houses from ours, and it is open seven days a week, except that on Friday, as we drove by after picking up curbside some books I'd ordered, the lights in the store weren't on. A bit later my husband walked to the grocery to see what was going on and the sign said they were closed for a few days and the staff would get tested for covid tomorrow. I had run in masked and careful a few days before and so had my son. If a worker has covid, that could affect my neighborhood dramatically. We carefully ordered more than usual from Instacart, because maybe once a week or less one of us would go to that store for a few items. This dread and fear is getting hard to bear. But it is a beautiful fall day, with persimmons bright orange against our bare leafed tree, and a golden floor of leaves in our yard, patio and steps. My husband is sweeping the leaves off our porch right now, and I am making cards for the grandkids with some of them. I am beginning to address Christmas cards, and I do love cards. So there is joy and fear, peace and dread, ordinary life that would never have been called such before the pandemic.