81 Days After

This post was written from my bed in early September. It is now late September and I’m finally publishing it. To preserve the integrity of the post I have not changed anything other then the addition of this notation.

It’s been 81 days since California opened.

What do I mean by this? Well, Covid of course. After being shut down for 15 months, the governor of California decided that it was safe enough for Californians to venture out of their homes and into the wide, wide world. … Well, maybe not so wide world and just within the borders of California.

Where was I on June 15?

I was at Disneyland celebrating my birthday with my childhood bestie.

Where were you?

Total side note here. Do you wonder if 50 years from now when we’re sitting with our great, great grand children and telling them of those dark, dark pandemic days, are we going to tell our stories by saying something like:

It was June 15, and I remember exactly where I was on that eventful day. It was the day California opened and the residents went wile. Your great, great grandma, that’s me, well she was an adventurous sort. She was at Disneyland with her childhood bestie celebrating their birthdays. …

And then of course, there will be a gasp of shock and a chorus of little voices saying … Grandma, you were so brave! … Or, Grandma you were wild and foolish and such a risk taker!

Seriously curious though, are people asking each other where folks were on THAT day? You know, the day California opened?

It’s been a few weeks, 81 days to be precise, since the state has re-opened and what a strange and mixed up world it has been during those 81 days of re-opening.

I’m laying in bed writing this post right now. I probably won’t publish it until later today after getting some shut eye but I feel compelled to share my impressions of the evening. Most of them are impressions of sounds, colors, and above all else, scents. And, I was truly moved to document the night. So here it is.

Smells! … What an evening of smells! No really … so many smells that I could deeply inhale without my mask on. And of course, in a corner of my mind, as I deeply inhaled the night, I wondered if I was also deeply inhaling THE DELTA VARIANT! (Rest assured, I’m vaccinated, I wore my mask most of the time we were in a crowd, and the concert was an outdoor concert.)

My husband and I were gifted a pair of tickets to see Lindsay Stirling in concert. It was an amazing concert full of rocking violin notes assailing my ears, pink, purple, orange, yellow, and blue strobe lights flashing before my eyes, heavy drum beats vibrating in my bones, and so many different smells puffing past my nose at various points of the night.

While my husband picked up our mobile order of beverages, I sat alone chilling out and feeling the energetic vibes of the crowd all around me. When what do I smell? But of course … the concert favorite … ganja! I don’t think I’ve ever been to a concert where I didn’t smell the thick pungent odor of weed. And boy was it thick and heavy.

Right before Joe returned though, this puff of air passed and I swear I was walking into a cheap motel room, vanilla scented bathroom deodorizer. You know, that sickly sweet vanilla scent that is sprayed inside of your super cheap motel room to make it smell clean and fresh. I was so entertained by this smell.

Throughout the evening, my nose witnessed so many beautiful smelly smells.

Musky teenage boy cologne.

That shower fresh frat boy cologne scent that would send your stomach a-flutter when you smelled it during college biology.

More ganja.

More cheap motel room.

Fresh pulled beer that made me second guess the can of Wild Berry Trulys in my hand.

Someone who walked past me who smelled like Sweet Pea from what I think was Bath and Bodyworks.

And of course, that California summer night smell.

I think we’ve been indoors so long, and under masks so long, that my nose was hungry for smells. Without really trying to sniff out anything, my nose just took in the smells as my ears took in Lindsay’s mad violin skills. My feet tapped out rhythms. My hands often held an imaginary violin. My head kept bopping. And all through the night, my nose kept smelling. And it was amazing. … It was lovely … It was so freeing to smell the world around me and the humanness of an open-air night concert.

And just for the record, before I sign off … I’m a proponent of vaccines and masking. So don’t read this post and decide that not wearing a mask is okay just because I chose to sith through a concert mostly without my mask.

Signing off for now,

Bay Area Blind Mom

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