Social Distancing - Teresa Berkowitz

Are there more birds? the man thought. Or is there more time to notice them?

The birds sing all morning demanding his attention but nothing more, but he has so much to give and so he sets up bird feeders, even though his yard is filled with fruit trees and berries.

He shoos away neighborhood cats and worries about the nests on stormy nights. He has so much time now. Everyone does.

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The woman is new to Maine. She arrived in the last few days before the COVID-19 pandemic. She bid her daughter goodbye as the movers unloaded her last box into the small bungalow. A tiny house before tiny houses were a thing. She chose Portland because it was smaller. She was tired of being invisible in a large crowd.

She walks her dog and remembers different times. She remembers other cities, other sidewalks. She remembers the dense fog of summers in San Francisco. She remembers the sweltering heat of New York City.

It must be easy being young now, she thinks, envious of their ease with social networks. Her nephews befriend gamers in other countries while never knowing their real names and never seeing their faces. They must never be lonely. Of course, she knows it’s not that simple.

#

The man decided he is not returning to his job when this is over. For the first time in years, his body has found peace. The tending of the garden is so much more rewarding than the tending of the business. For decades he had invested his time in his career, honed his presentation skills, developed his teams. He had joked that they were going to have to drag him away with his fingernails clawing his mahogany desk.

On Zoom, he tells his son that the 100 days of quarantine helped him break his addiction to work. He notices a subtle eye roll and knows that he pushed his son too hard all these years. His granddaughter is climbing all over his son like a jungle gym. Alerts chirp away on his phone. “Sounds great Dad. Got to sign off. My phone is blowing up.”

The sun is burning off the dew. He grabs his gardening gloves and clippers and heads out to the yard.

#

The woman passes a cape with lovely gardens filled with fruit trees. A mourning dove lets out its long plaintive call and she remembers the small window box in her Nob Hill apartment, and how she tended the rosemary and lavender she planted there. The shrubbery seems alive with small birds. She remembers her younger self, outgoing and confident.

She sees a man tending his shrubbery. “Lovely gardens,” she calls loudly.

Her dog barks a greeting as well. The leaves of the bushes explode with startled birds.

#

“Mind the birds!” he calls out gruffly as he turns to her.

Her dog is pulling hard at his leash. The woman’s face is flushed, and he regrets his harshness. Being alone is a habit too.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he walks over to her.

They stand twelve feet apart for good measure.

Originally published in the Paul Bunyan Wears a Facemask Anthology

Teresa Berkowitz is a writer and poet from Portland, Maine. She grew up in a family of storytellers. She believes that the greatest truths can be found in fiction and real life can be strangely surreal and dramatic. Her work has been published in literary journals and anthologies. Teresa is founder and editor of TangledLocksJournal.com , an online literary journal. She is committed to amplifying writers’ voices in social media to enhance personal expression and impact positive change. You can connect with her on her website teresaberkowitz.com and on Twitter at @teresaberkowitz or @tangledlockslit and on Threads and Instagram @teresaberkowitzmaine.