Captain Mom's Log: Week 10: Day 67

The local inhabitants are making marks on the sidewalk again. "Bruno was here," "Emi was here," "Stay home," and other various primitive scribbles in chalk.
"Why is this symbol here again?" Chief Mate asks and points to an arc of 4 or 5 hash lines. 
We have seen it in several places around the neighborhood for the past month.
"I think it is his tag," I say.
"Whose tag?"
"Timo, the young one who can barely hold the chalk without chomping on it for a bit." 
We run to get our chalk. We make stealthy work of it. I add my signature flower. I hesitate. 
I add, "Stay safe." 
I instantly feel cliche. How long does a phrase need to be around before it is considered a cliche? Is it the length of time or the condensed repetition? 
"Stay home," is stated on every radio commercial, every YouTube ad, every flier in the mail. 
"Stay safe," every email, every social media thread, every grocery store.
"In these trying times..." is part of every public statement and political sign. 
I'm again reminded of, "Blessed be the Fruit," and "May the Lord open." 
I try not to think of such things.
How long will these words last in our repertoire of greetings? Will we say, "Stay safe," for another hundred years? 
Will kids greet each other, elbow to elbow with the words, "Yo waz up?" "Safe," and know where it originated? 
How many families out there are already speaking their own new dialects? Is this Log still making any sense? 

END TRANSMISSION

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