1. The Moon
“What a beautiful moon tonight!” Jenny said. She attached three pictures of the Kentucky full moon, which looked strangely like ours — big, smiling, round, white; thin, wispy clouds; a glowing streetlight in the foreground.
“We saw it!” I replied. And I told her about our venturing forth last night.
It had been three weeks since I’d run my car, Trudy’s electric Bolt being the obvious choice since we’ve been sequestered. It had been three weeks, and I was wondering about the tires and the brakes and the battery. And feeling bad about the Ash seeds and Oak leaves and pollen and other detritus making it look abandoned. So we ventured forth into that good night.
2. A Drive-By Visit
We got in the car, I at the wheel and beside me the fair and industrious Trudy holding Izzy. We drove north on an empty highway. We drove to a park near where I used to work once and another time before that — a park with a forlorn playground and a silent pond and a gravel path going around.
I told Jenny about this. About how we had gone for that drive and taken a walk and seen that moon, which made me want to say, “Guardate la bella luna!” And I told Jenny about how on the way home, we texted some friends and had a drive-by visit with us in the car and them on the sidewalk. How we chatted about family and work and about trips cancelled and plans for maybe later.
Old-school: you drop in on friends unannounced just to talk. New-school: you do it from a socially acceptable distance.