What I Miss

I fear I have become a different person. So much has changed in the past year, that I wonder how, I—we, will emerge from the strangeness of this pandemic. I wish I’d never heard the word. It has become a common refrain. How does one get over the feelings of isolation and being stuck, imprisoned in our own rooms? Some of us are lucky. We have partners in this strangeness. It makes it easier to laugh. It also gives us someone to talk to other than ourselves. And whether with others or alone, we mask up, go to the grocery store and stand in our designated spots while waiting in line. We cook, we eat, work or don’t work, have zoom meetings, and watch TV. We sleep and sometimes don’t, and then we get up and do it all over again wishing it wasn’t like groundhog day. Sometimes we feel like we want to get away, be by ourselves, but maybe that is just trying to get away from ourselves, because whether we are alone or not, we feel confined. It’s like the difference between regular incarceration or solitary confinement. Debatable. So, we go outside for fresh air wearing our double masks. Maybe there is an answer out there. But as we go along the sidewalks or walk the middle of the road, avoiding one another, we no longer see the whole face of those who pass by. If we know them, we can’t tell. Their expressions and voices are muffled. Where is the release we ask? When is the release? I don’t want to explore the world from home. I want to be in the world. I’m tired of the computer, and Facebook, seeing flashes of other peoples’ version of confinement.

And all the while, the backdrop of newscasters and ‘experts’ on the TV drone on about new numbers in COVID deaths, vaccine distribution and new variants, the insurrection, and Trump’s second impeachment. How many times must an obvious criminal be impeached before he is finally convicted of such overt malfeasance? A year of our lives has been too long to sacrifice, especially when I think of young people not able to attend school. We, and here I include the insurrectionists, should never make the mistake of letting such a tyrant run our lives into the ground. He has only exploited his supporters for his own benefit. I’d like to have them over for a cup of coffee and apple pie, see if there is a place where we can agree. I’d like that, but right now, I can’t have anyone over. And maybe that’s the problem. We are all strapped to our homes, our separate views, all of us wondering what happened in America, all of us wondering what happened to us. What I miss most during this pandemic—okay I said it—is taking a weekend drive to a small rural town and having breakfast in a popular local diner or café. It’s hard to replicate ordering up a farmhouse special and having the waitress refill your coffee into those heavy-duty ceramic cups, lifting the cup to sip the hot liquid. Not expecting too much.