NORMAL THINGS ARE STILL HAPPENING

There comes a day, a few days after the March equinox, when the sun directs a morning beam into my bedroom. It happens just after 7:30 and lasts a minute or so, just after the northerly sun rises enough to peak out from between some buildings on the next block, Just before it angles up to hide itself behind The Athabascan next door. The conditions for observing this phenomenon have to be exactly right. You might miss it the first day or even the second. You’d never see it if you weren’t in the bedroom. You wouldn’t see it on a cloudy morning. I saw it on April 2, 2020. I wasn’t looking for it. I was just talking to myself about getting out of bed and there it was! A ray of hope projected itself across the room from the angled window by the bathroom sink to land on the wall by the mirror over the dresser. “Normal things are still happening,” I said to myself. “This is only one of them.” I know a woman who gave birth to a healthy child in the maternity ward of a local hospital. Pigeons are circling our building, looking for friendly balconies. Neighbours are still spreading rumours. Friends are still making me laugh. Neglected friends are still delighted when I remember to call them. Pandemic buzz is consuming us all. Everybody seems to be talking about the new normal. I am taking some comfort from noticing evidence for the old normal. Perhaps I shall be a little more conscious of watching the morning sun as it alters its trajectory, lingering a bit longer every day until the summer solstice signals a reverse of fortune. It’s part of the old normal that will secure me. Here, in my new normal, I’ll have the time to notice it.