Too Much, Too Soon
A Lesson In Keeping My Social Distance
The mask mandate recently lifted in our area, and Sam and I had gone out to dinner.
We had just ordered when I saw a former neighbor seated at a table across the room. Me being me, I jumped out of my seat to give her a hug.
Was she ever surprised, and by surprised, I mean upset. If looks could kill, I would be dead, felled by the twin death stares of both of her dinner companions and her own blistering eyeroll. Normally I would feel quite hurt about all of this except that I totally get it. They are right. I absolutely should not have been sticking my unmasked face anywhere near hers.
Of course, I’d had an IPA was feeling uninhibited, overcome by the impulsive imperative to reconnect with my friend in a newly mask-free environment. Huzzah! Happy days were here again! When I bounded across the restaurant I felt certain that this was the moment we’d all been waiting for, but clearly, it was not. Is not. Not yet.
The day after the debacle, I thought about emailing said neighbor and apologizing for my physical intrusion, but decided against it. I almost don’t want to give the awkwardness of the moment any more oxygen than it already sucked up. We both realized the error of my ways. I would rather just forgive myself and move on, a feeling I hope she shares.
What I find myself longing for is a not-too-distant future where I can have a beer and feel that fellow feeling and act on it in my characteristically affectionate convivial way, a way that feels deeply good for both parties involved. A not-too-distant future where fervent hugs are not merely tolerated, but returned. A not-too-distant future where we can pick up in that warm, human space where, or close to where, we left off.