Nice Coat
The Enormous Joy of the Small Interaction
Yesterday Sam and I went to a huge tile and stone warehouse. Masked, distanced, we wandered the one-way aisles, dwarfed by slabs of quartz and granite and towering displays of tile. Salespeople didn’t approach, only interacting with serious customers who had made appointments. Browsers are left to their own devices.
These days when we are together, we move with purpose, furtively, eyes down, our gaze focused only on what we came for. We are all business. So imagine my surprise when a voice from around 6 feet away said, “Nice coat.”
I was wearing my winter coat, a navy-blue knee-length Patagonia. It is the most generic winter coat in a line of generic winter coats. I peered over the top of my mask to see the source of the voice. It was a woman wearing the exact same coat.
It had been so long since being seen by a stranger, and a light-hearted, observant stranger at that! I was rusty at this type of casual engagement. After an awkward pause, I responded with “Yes, we’re twins!” Lame. But this small moment felt like the loveliest moment in a very, very, very long time.
During the pandemic, we keep our contacts limited and distant, and when we go out publicly, our social mandate translates to anxiety. I have turned a corner at the grocery store and found myself masked-face-to-masked-face with someone and we have both screamed. So, to be reminded by this cheerful stranger of spontaneous playful interactions felt like a burst of sunshine, the sunshine that dutiful citizens have gone without, as we keep our heads down and push swiftly forward.
It was no small thing, this small joke, this small visible, connected moment. It has stayed with me, and I am still warmed at the retelling of it.