The rainy season has started, tropical flowers are blooming in the garden.
We’ve now gotten our Covid vaccinations, as have our friends up here on the ridge. In a few more days it will be two weeks since the second shot and we’ll be as fully protected as we can be. I wrote a poem about the experience.
La vacuna (the vaccination) Be here tomorrow one o’clock the voice said Irina answering the phone grasping the Spanish your husband too list starting with oldest now reaching us. Next day drive to the neighborhood clinic four klicks down the hill. A guard at reception brown shirt, black mask asks for IDs stacks them face down on the desk as he muffles go wash your hands finger pointing to the sink at the back. Old folks wait sitting chairs two meters apart outside, under cover their faces, too women well put together in complementary colors clothes veiling their bodies men weathered, withered wearing trousers, sport shirts less carefully chosen. A door opens, a woman her largesse tugging her top of blue scrubs picks up the cédulas turns about, disappears. The minutes pass so too young women bearing babies in their arms, their bellies their clothes scant coverage clinging to contours as they stride the spaced crowd to dates with their doctors. The aide in blue finally leans into the lobby announces a name and one after another the called walk, shuffle disappear through the door at last a turn mine. Down a hall to the left a trim nurse in white sits at a desk keeping records. In a chair set beside we banter, a second behind mask appearing a twin of the first raises my sleeve damp cottons my shoulder plunges a needle plasters the puncture. The first girl returns my ID folded in cardstock carné de vacunación noting date of first dose and that for the second three weeks later same time, same station. Inoculants are asked to wait in reception for fifteen minutes to ensure no reaction but rains early this year thunder scattering fat drops and not having umbrellas we hurry to the car outrunning the deluge. That same afternoon a call alerts Rick his appointment, next day. I’m so happy. I’m no longer afraid he says to me after I’m not going to die.
Photo credits: photos by IrinaCovid