The Soft Apocalypse

Fr calls this The Soft Apocalypse. He stands in the kitchen where he just finished making Thai chicken for dinner and I am currently baking scones. Last night we ordered Ethiopian food from a restaurant in Columbia City. 

He feigns distress, “Ugh. I’m mildly inconvenienced.” 

My brother Seth (who by the way did not have Covid-19, just the regular pneumonia) wrote in our family text thread, "We're soft, and ill prepared, and have become used to luxurious comforts that even the most broke of us enjoy.”

It’s true, we are weak. A month ago my only goal in life was to go home, and now I’ve been ORDERED BY THE GOVERNMENT TO STAY HOME as much as I can, and I’m upset because I can’t go to the Mexican restaurant. The last time I was in a grocery store I saw a child eating a bag of Cheetos saying, “I have to sit down. MOM! I HAVE to sit down.” His mother was hurriedly trying to find somewhere for her mildly uncomfortable child to sit with his Cheetos. We are a people who HAVE to sit down when eating Cheetos, and who become distressed because, 

"You can get takeout and watch any movie you want, but please stay home."

...

During the Soft Apocalypse, we have flexible time. Weekdays don't look much different from weekends, except I'm not required to open my laptop unless I want to. I do want to. So weekends and weekdays are bleeding together. Weekends used to be the time when I went somewhere. I live in the greatest region in the world and typically my options are vast. They are not vast right now.

"Today should we go left or right?"
"We went left yesterday let's go right today".
walking. . . walking. . . walking. . . walking. . .

"Those blossoms are pretty"
"I like the architecture here. . . the front porch is great."
Fr definitely likes craftsman. I prefer mid century with big corner windows or little brick cottages with super sloped roofs.

"It would be amazing to get on the bridge." He means the eroding and closed West Seattle Bridge.
I've been thinking the same thing every time I pass the blockades . . . 
"I agree."
He looks at me,
" . . . Do you think we could do it?" 
"If we dare pass the unattended cones we definitely could."
"That would be an amazing view." We start walking toward the bridge.
I love his adventurous spirit. 

The cone sentinels stand in silent protest which turns to indignation as we walk past them onto the bridge we cross every day (in non-pandemic times).

It's quiet. Eerie. There are no pedestrian walkways, and I wonder how many feet have actually tread here. It feels sacred.
Earth's crammed with heaven . . . But only he who sees takes off his shoes. 

A sweeping view of the Seattle skyline is ahead of us, the Duwamish river to the south, the Port of Seattle to the north. The Sound. Ferry boats. The Olympic Mountains. And you and I.

"What do you think would happen if we get caught?"
"There's a Pandemic. Police got no time for bridge trespassing."

In this moment, I love the Soft Apocalypse.
...
"Bridge"
Enjoy the Film.