Let the River Run

by Tom Swift

Turns out, my sleep last night wasn’t as restful as I thought. I needed to close my eyes. I put my head on the arm of my couch. When I woke up a few minutes later, I heard the humming of engines. Our trash/recycling pickup was canceled this week. I wondered: could they possibly be here on a Sunday? What else could be the cause of that noise?

I looked out the window. I saw was big pickup truck. It was idling.

I looked longer. I spread the proverbial curtain. There were trucks and cars as far as I could see.

As I write these words vehicle are lined up on my street and they are similarly lined up on another street a block over.

People are bringing food to Sanford Middle School.

If they are not driving to the school, they are walking to the school, carrying bags of food under their arms.

One man just passed my door with three grocery bags under each arm.

Some 170 children who attend Sanford, many with younger siblings, are without food and other basic supplies.

Public transit is closed.

Walkable stores have been destroyed by rioters.

School Nutrition Services is closed.

Some members of these families have, it has been reported in the media, tested positive for COVID-19.

In the sixty or so minutes it’s take me to compose these words the line of cars has not lessened and quite possibly it has lengthened. The sidewalks are busier now for certain

Like that: I’m not feeling nothing anymore.