January 23, 2021. Playa Royale, Mexico. Hermits.

Across the street from us in Nova Scotia is a blue house. The folks who live there are hermits. We never see them. The first year we lived thee I went to introduce myself and to invite them to a dinner party. They accepted the invitation for the cocktail hour but would not stay for dinner. The wife has physical issues with a crooked back. So all was well and they seemed to enjoy talking with people. As they were leaving I accompanied them to their car through the garage, because it was level. As they were leaving, they thanked me for the invitation but asked me not to invite them again. "We do not attend social events," she said. And that was the last time I have seen them 21 years ago. They are hermits. I had never had neighbors I never saw so I found it wierd. Now fast forard to the pandemic. Now there are lots and lots of hermits, including me. My friend Butch lives by himself in Annapolis. His brothers visit him but he sees no one else. He never goes out. The restaurants are closed so he has no where to go. He is alone. Linda C. has no one visit her house and never goes to a restaurant. Sara Lou the same. Dave and Irene see Wonderful Wendy when she brings grogeries. Here in Playa Royale I too am a hermit. I spend my time in the condo or walk the balcony I talk with Marlin. In Mississippi I was not a hermit. Kashine came three mornings a week, I saw Christina and the girls every Sunday and I organized luncheon dates with friend. But now I am truly a hermit. Who would ever thought that I would be a hermit. But here I am. And the odd thing is that I am enjoying myself. Grandma the Hermit, that is me.