Bit by bit, elements of my life are falling away to reveal the person I’ve always been. I didn’t expect that from the coronavirus pandemic.

I remember driving across the Coralville Lake to work at the home, farm and auto supply store. Already the landmarks on that route are being forgotten. They are in the before time.

Yesterday’s post about bicycling is an example. I don’t know what made me get the bicycle down, other than it was ready, I was ready, and the weather was clear for a ride. Riding a bike is part of who I used to be. As an older bicyclist I have to be careful. A crash could be disastrous. Yet it is who I am becoming.

The garden is another example. This year I have time to do things right. The tomatoes are caged and pruned, the peppers properly arranged and producing fruit, and kale and other leafy green vegetables are planted to maximize space usage. As a result, there are plenty of fresh vegetables for the kitchen. Gardening was an afterthought in the before time.

The before time is gone. I don’t have a name for the new time. Something will come to me. Or maybe it won’t. The need to name things as a method of control is part of the before time. It’s gone to memory and fading fast.