He dropped by to see us yesterday, my youngest son, a porch visit only. Outdoors, socially-distant, COVID-style. He hasn't dared to come by, won't dare to come in right now, because COVID cases are soaring and he works in a college bookstore - a campus that has welcomed students back for second semester this school year, this pandemic school year.
I search for his eyes, above that mask, beneath the warm hat.
He worries about his own health. He's in the area, visiting us, because it was time for another infusion; he has an autoimmune disease and needs these regularly. These infusions wear him out, he's always fatigued afterwards.
Today, he's fatigued and freezing. We're freezing, all of us, despite the small heater that Tony has set up. Once cold gets into you, oh my, there's no warming up. I feel it in my feet first, and it just moves through my body, despite the lap blankets, warm coat, gloves.
He doesn't stay long. The winter day doesn't allow it.
Hours later, safely ensconced on my couch, wrapped in a throw blanket, I continue to feel chilly. He was so sweet to indulge us. He knows how much we miss him. (We sent him off with a shower of love treats, of course - homemade cookies, gourmet coffee, even a hot chicken/beans/rice dinner from our favorite local hole-in-the-wall takeout.)