Well, we did it. Howard and I wore masks to the store. But not your everyday, usual mask, we wore bandannas! Since no other protective masks were available, I remembered some new, never used, red and blue bandannas purchased at some time for some reason, I don't remember why, now, but they had lain new and folded in a drawer for a year or two, at least.
"I feel like a cowboy or a robber," my husband remarked as we rode along in the car, the pointed end of the scarf tucked in the neck of his shirt. I followed suit and did the same with mine.
"Here we are," I announced, as we drove up to the convenience store. I got out wearing my bandanna, but he promptly lowered his "handkerchief". We got some grinning looks and friendly remarks, but no one said anything, only ducking into another aisle as we passed. Social-distancing, you know.
I had seen a news announcer hold up a colored bandanna and demonstrate it's ease and convenience as a mask. That's when I thought about the bandannas and searched them out.
The cashier at the register looked at us with an inscrutable expression, but I could see he was "masking" a smile. As I reached for a pack of paper towels I hadn't seen, I heard my genial husband telling the manager of one of the two store robberies he survived when he worked in New Orleans many years ago. I don't know if the intruders wore masks, but they left indelible memories, non the less.
Sailing down the road toward home in the fresh air and sunshine renewed my spirit from being closed in all week, as prescribed for health and safety by authorities, considering the COV-19 virus. I will be glad when all this is over, with nothing left but indelible memories, which will doubtless never go away.
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