Member-only story
Mirror Image
Life in the San Francisco Bay Area today
The top branch of the Asian pear tree on my lawn sways in the late-morning breeze. Part of the sky behind the branch is blue, with a soft layer of fog draped over the mountain, obscuring the ridge. The blue sky and the clarity of the light this morning caused me to check Purple Air hopefully.
Lo and behold, for the first time in weeks, the circles indicating readings on indoor and outdoor air filters all over the East Bay, where I live, are green, blessedly green. This, after weeks of angry purple, orange, and red buttons pulsing like welts on the screen.
This, after weeks of pink-tinged, dusty air, scratchy throats, burning eyes, face masks tossed casually on my son’s desk, on my colleague’s desk at work.
Humans are insanely adaptable, as we all know. It’s perverse how quickly I’ve adapted to seeing folks walking around with face masks pulled over their noses and mouths, even though numerous articles have questioned their efficacy.
Today, I am tense, nervous, worried. Stiff with tension. It’s hard to get air into my lungs.
But it’s not the smoky air this time.
This time, it’s the shooting in Santa Clarita, California, that’s stopping my breath, that’s sitting like an anvil in my belly.
