Today started well. D, B and I went to the restaurant early, while the air is still cool, to set up for the big reopening on Saturday. The covid inspector comes tomorrow, to assess our heightened hygiene and social distancing protocols. I think it is really just to see if our already submitted reopening strategy and table plan checks out. D and B are doing the heavy lifting of solid wood benches and tables, I am doing the lighter organizational tasks. I also find that during lockdown, several tomato plants have sprung up in the sand. Could this be from people dropping tomatoes? It gets hot, and we are all tired, but it is a good bonding moment, tied by our commitment to see the that the reopen is a success.
Then I get the message. One of our friends is diagnosed with a an extremely rare form of heart tumour. He has just come out of successful heart surgery, now he needs to recover quickly, start chemo therapy as soon as possible, then move to radio therapy, then, finally, a heart transplant. Our friend is fit, and youthful, it feels like we just celebrated his 40th. It also feels so incredibly unfair. This is news that is hard to fathom, and because of Covid we are not even allowed to visit him or his adorable family to offer support.
Our day continues with more manual tasks, but it is hard to function after this blow. After the evening dog walk, A chats with us on the deck as the sun gets low. She asks how long we estimate her FatCat will live, 20 years? Maybe 15? B then joins us while the sky turns gold, and he is quite chatty, and gives a detailed explanation of the dice rolling technique required to win Sabacc, the Star Wars inspired card game. After dinner, the kids invite their friends round for a bonfire on the beach, and s’mores. A huge land crab scuttles away from the wood stack, scared because the fire is lit. B brings a speaker, because hip hop adds something to the occasion. I wish the teens good night and head to bed. This day has ended well in our home, but my heart is with my friend and his family.