Life Without Hugs

A friend had a birthday, so we gathered, Covid style. In her driveway, each of us six feet away from the nearest other, each of us holding our own miniature Prosecco. We even left extra space between our cars as we parked. 

I haven't seen my friends in what seems like ages. Weeks, probably, but the isolation has made the days run together, periods of gray punctuated by stretches of darkness, with an occasional glimpse of sunlight to remind us of what used to be. A sliver of false optimism, as we wonder when it will matter again whether it is Saturday or Monday. 

It was good to see my friends again, even though we couldn't hug. Still better than the group texts that ping in the distant perimeter of my solitude while I try to work. Work alone, at home, as I often do, but it feels so different now. 

Mind you, it's not all bad. I am trying my hand at cooking and baking. I apologized to my son yesterday, for not trying all that sooner, like, say, when he and his siblings might have enjoyed coming home to a house that smelled like cookies just out of the oven. I've been concocting Bloody Mary's, convincing myself it's just a salad in a glass. I have found a reason for celery; I have binged on pickled asparagus. 

I crave my mother's wisdom. Not the thinness wisdom (the best exercise is pushing yourself away from the table) that has always amused my friends, but the trite wisdom that I have always waved away, as my children do when I tell them everything will work out. This too shall pass, she has always told me. I believe it when she says it, though I still hold my breath every morning until I know she is all right. 

We have relied for so long now upon virtual connection; now, it is all we have. It's something, more than something. We check on our friends and our family, certainly more than we used to. But no hugging. That's a tough one for me. 

Until the curve flattens, virtual will have to do. Virtual exercise classes with my daughters while we amuse ourselves on FaceTime with our genetic lack of coordination; virtual cocktail hours with my girlfriends, without clinking; daily family wellness checks; an uncanny urge to tell all the people in my life to stay safe, having had a taste of what life might be without them. 

This too shall pass, and, I expect, not without some valuable lessons for all of us.