Hiding place

There's a little spot in the grass behind my lab that is completely hidden. It's shielded from Water Street by the Redfield building and from School Street by the bike shed. It's shadowy and poorly lit, so any passerby could easily miss a person standing there. But if you're in this little spot, you can see out all around you - to Eel Pond, to the Redfield lobby, to the parking lot, even the street. I like this little spot, because it makes me feel mysterious - I can see everyone, but they would never notice me.

I don't know why I wanted to be hidden tonight. It's not like there was anyone around. But when the bells of St. Joseph's Chapel started chiming at 6:00 and I happened to be in that spot, I paused for a good long minute and listened. I felt the cold, dry winter air on my face. I noticed the small colored lights scattered across Eel Pond - blue on top of a boat, red and green on a restaurant dock. But mostly I paused, concealed in my spot, to appreciate the darkness and the stillness around me. 

Woods Hole is all but empty these days. As covid cases surge, scientists have been asked to work from home as much as possible - in fact, I was only in the lab because I had to use the microscope. We're at a very strange moment in history, and it's becoming ever more difficult to stay grounded and positive. 

I'm trying to focus on the good things. The pandemic has given me time to work through old datasets, and in the last 3 months or so, I've submitted 2 papers for publication and drafted 4 more. It will take a while for all of them to go through the peer review process, but when that's over, I will have had a productive year. I have collaborators I enjoy working with, a student who's knocking her program out of the park, and several exciting prospects for the year ahead. 

For now, all I need is to pause in my little spot and listen to the bells.