As I look out my window, to the west, I see a tall willow oak, reaching for the sky, with its very horizontal branches, devoid of leaves, speckled with glistening droplets of water, left over from a light rain.
I see a street devoid of people walking by, and automobiles driving by, and children playing, during this national State of Emergency.
I see the curbside and driveways filled with automobiles waiting to transport people to work, or to a doctor’s appointment, or to a store for supplies, or to socialize.
I see a tall vertical utility pole with its outreached street lamp that really needs maintenance because it blinks on, and off, and on, and off, all night long.
I see the horizontal cables of telephone wires, and electric cables, and cables for Internet/TV connectivity.
Looking out on my street, I remember it being lined with police cars a number of years ago when the teenage son set fire to his home, with his mother still inside.
As I gaze upon the rebuilt home, I remember the neighbors around me when I moved into my neighborhood some three decades ago.
The first neighbor and then the second neighbor to the right have passed, as well as the couple across the street, and the one diagonally across the street, and the other to left, all of whom I knew by name.
I feel blessed at having been allowed to live so long.
And now the combination of pollen season and Coronavirus has arrived, perhaps to facilitate my passing.
I can only hope and pray that I will be allowed to stay healthy to do more good stuff, to the benefit of my family, my friends, and mankind in general.
Having looked out my window, I then step outside on my covered porch to listen to the sounds, in the chill of the early evening, following a dreary overcast day.
The chirping birds have gone silent, having bedded down in their nests for the night.
I hear the distant subdued roar of traffic on the Interstate highway.
I hear the distant roar of the commercial airplanes landing and taking off.
The quiet and darkness of the night has descended upon my neighborhood.
I hope and pray that tomorrow will come and be a better day than today.
The thoughts of one very old person named Roger Smith.