Pandemic in Los Angeles: Day 01

Today was an important flash through time and space, though one that began much differently from the day before, which now feels like something from a lifetime ago.

In the early morning I got up and almost immediately knew that I needed to show my body some care. It was due time. Perhaps two months, even, since I’d picked up the weights at home in the living room to work out my biceps, and since I’d done my sit-ups from the ground up for my abs.

The whole workout took me ten minutes more than an hour, and by the last round with the weights, I felt the iron ebbing heavily into the fiber of my whole being. But the relief from that pressure when I put the weights down was effervescent. It was uplifting. I let go of two months and more.

After the workout, I delved into a  fruitbowl that mom had blessed the center of the kitchen table with. I didn’t need much more then.

After slices of mangos and oranges and melons wet my palate, I knew I simply needed to walk to complete the self-care, though I had no idea just where I’d walk to. Outside it began to sprinkle.

As rain shone through the window, I took a moment to pause and get through just a handful of more pages for Leo Tolstoy’s War & Peace. I’m now just 30 pages away from putting the Russian ghost down for good.

Then, finally, when the rain let up some, I tied my shoelaces, said my parting words, and made my way out to the great unknown.

I’d walk all the way up to Echo Park, which glistened after the rain, and which after a glance through I’d walk back from. The path would be a stretch of just about five miles, or more than enough to fill two hours plus. The path remained with me through the afternoon.

By evening, as I planned for the next morning, I realized something: I am increasingly prepared for this next chapter with Los Angeles. I will give it my all. Tomorrow, I finish War & Peace.


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