I bought a third hyacinth just to make sure the scent stays in my home over Christmas. The pandemic takes another chokehold on society and sometimes I gasp from lack of air, a little.
Then I remember that a normal life in a normal society never appealed to me that much anyway. As a kid I made up games in the garden or in the woods, sometimes after dark, where I was an outlaw hiding in the wilderness or a rebel spy on an undercover mission. As an idealistic teenager I believed God wanted to send me on an adventure. So I starved in the jungle, viewed instant noodles as the pinnacle of luxury and slept in the company of cockroaches and water buffalos, in order to help God save souls.
Now I'm a settled citizen, with a regular income. I expect lunch to be more than noodles, a generous Christmas gift from my employer, a heated flat with a view, more than one hyacinth on the coffee table.
But I remember that God, probably while rolling his eyes, helped me through those days of lonely games in the woods and heroical starving among the cockroaches. Even my most cynical self suspects he didn't intend me to grow fat in a flat with a view, surrounded by hyacinths, for the rest of my life. Perhaps the uncertainty and frustration will drag me away from Netflix and remind me that I can't save souls but I could at least pay attention to them. There are good news to go tell.
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