COVID-19 And Murder In Minneapolis

Police form ranks to break up protests in Portland, Or

COVID & Murder In Minneapolis

By D. S. Mitchell

Grasping At Sanity

I hadn’t known, until I stayed home that the mailman stopped at my mailbox everyday at 11:30, like clockwork. Never before did I start planning dinner at breakfast time, but, I do now. I wash my hands at least twelve times a day, once for every hour I’m awake, unless I have to go out, or I get a delivery, then I hand wash compulsively every five minutes for at least an hour. Sometimes, I wonder how long I can hold onto my sanity.

Vacant Streets

The strange thing about the COVID-19 pandemic has been the quietness of the streets. The 24 hour buzz of the busy freeways is gone. The roads have been  almost vacant. Not in a post-apocalyptic sense, but certainly a sense of disturbing, quiet unfamiliarity. There is, however, an awareness of danger. A danger lurking on every surface and every person. The danger, although  invisible, has been scary enough to have people locked down in their homes, until Monday, May 25th.

Silent Killer

Someone called it, a “willing paralysis.” I’m not sure what to call it. Physical contact with another person could be a death sentence. The bullet, nothing more than a cough. As we have social distanced, we have heard new sounds. The sound of chirping birds. The sound of a singular child bouncing a ball against a wall. A neighbor, whom I’ve never met, playing his acoustic guitar, like a resurrected Michael Hedges. Not all killers are silent, or invisible. Some are intentionally visible and they kill with impunity for the camera. And now our country hears a new sound. A cry, a great and powerful cry.

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