Needless to say it has been an unexpected day up here in Boston. There’s a sense in the air so far of pride, that by staying put and staying out of everyone’s way we are doing our part to help resolve this unprecedented situation.
This morning our neighborhood can lady was out prowling, despite their being no trash and a shelter-in-place advisory. The construction guys up the street were working. The crew that was supposed to take some trash from behind the apartment six weeks ago finally came by to do the job (that may be more shocking than the lockdown, to be honest).
There has been an anxiety lurking this week that can’t be denied. I’m not sure I can write about it yet, and I’m not sure that it will be the most important element of the collective story that Boston is writing as we wait. We’re proud and patient right now, though the day is lovely and most of us would rather have been outside.
I couldn’t help but open a few windows, which will soon close as the promised rain swirls into Boston. As the spring breeze and wind of a changed future blew around the apartment I thought of these words from T. S. Eliot, which I leave you with:If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.
– from Ash Wednesday
Please let me know how you’re doing, whether near or far.