What will we remember? (written in spurts between 10 May and 30 November, 2020; revised 3/11 Jan 2021) What will we remember? Will we have the perfect vision of twenty-twenty wisdom in hindsight and difficult lessons learned in this year of the pandemic? It all depends on where you were --and where you are when memory strikes— sheltered in place with roof and walls paid for, your life and its paraphernalia un-mortgaged, closets full of seasonal wear and cupboards neatly stocked; or leaning against the weak bamboo and flimsy tin listening to the blue plastic shiver because you did not have the strength or means to make a roof; fingering the notes, no longer crisp from the day’s labour—such as there is— counted out, a measure of sweat and muscle; or left with only your memories and the fading noise of traffic on streets once meant for travel towards dreams, or dreams of work; or waiting, walking, wanting or forced to return to a place you once escaped its borders never a refuge
making sense of the everyday