Thursday, March 12, 2020

Fierce winds are blowing through the city. Branches are down in my backyard. Some relatives have lost power. Word has it that hard rain will follow, through tomorrow night. News is flying around more swiftly than the blowing leaves. The House of a Hundred Grandmothers isn’t completely in quarantine. People from outside can’t come in, but people from inside can go out. Still, the birthday party that we had planned for tomorrow is canceled. For a person in several risk categories, meeting at a restaurant feels too dangerous. Schools are closed after today for at least a month. Further away, I’m told that all the churches have closed in Rome. Close to midnight, I haven’t yet heard any rain. The wind whistles and screams at times, but then falls silent. I still have power in my apartment. But if it goes, I know that I can find my bed by moonlight.