We have many friends we hold dear. Two sisters in particular, who share our political views and spoil us with fabulous dinners on an embarrassingly frequent schedule, have become a huge part of our social life. And DAMN I miss seeing them. We text. We talk on the phone. But it's not the same as sharing their wild stories over perfectly concocted martinis. I am sad. :(
Tonight, however, we employed the technology of the 21st century (which I usually find overwhelming and extremely suspect) to have a "video visit". They had their martinis. We had our white wine. Himself accidentally (it had better have been) put "bunny ears" and little pink noses on ourselves, which he later undid, but other than that it was a lovely "visit". Which made me stop and think; what IS a "visit". We could see them both. We could hear them both. We all had our little "drinkies" (Lent having been declared "over" by me when we went into isolation), so why didn't it scratch the itch? It's not as if we touch them when we visit them. OK, we are prone to the hello/goodbye hug and kiss on the cheek. But during the evening we pretty much just chat.
There is something about breathing the same air as the people we care about that is pure magic. There is a magic to being in the real presence of the people we love. This is why we're all going a little nuts these days. That hunger is not being fed. I think this also ties into why I'm missing being able to go to Mass. There is something about being in the Presence that feeds me. We have a thousand hungers nowadays that are going unfed. This "social distancing" is possibly the hardest and also the most interesting thing I've ever tried to do.
I know people are dying in droves due to this virus. So are our mindless expectations of what our lives are supposed to be. We are all taking an inventory of what is important to us, and some of the answers are surprising. When there is no restaurant or movie theater or pub to escape to, where do we go when it all gets to be too much? We are forced to endure our own company and to think about what we are doing and why. Whom do we love? What is there about them that we miss? Why is this panic rising at the thought that nothing we know will ever be the same again? We are all standing naked before ourselves and facing, often for the first time, who we really are, what we really care about, and (here's the kicker) that none of this will last forever, including us.
I have pretty much come to grips with the fact that I will never know what it's like to live in a really clean house. I always think I'll have time to get to those tasks I keep putting off. This virus has done me a favor by showing me that I do not have all the time in the world, and whatever it is that I feel is truly important had better be given attention right now. It won't be the house. But I ache for the presence of my children and my friends.
Tonight, however, we employed the technology of the 21st century (which I usually find overwhelming and extremely suspect) to have a "video visit". They had their martinis. We had our white wine. Himself accidentally (it had better have been) put "bunny ears" and little pink noses on ourselves, which he later undid, but other than that it was a lovely "visit". Which made me stop and think; what IS a "visit". We could see them both. We could hear them both. We all had our little "drinkies" (Lent having been declared "over" by me when we went into isolation), so why didn't it scratch the itch? It's not as if we touch them when we visit them. OK, we are prone to the hello/goodbye hug and kiss on the cheek. But during the evening we pretty much just chat.
There is something about breathing the same air as the people we care about that is pure magic. There is a magic to being in the real presence of the people we love. This is why we're all going a little nuts these days. That hunger is not being fed. I think this also ties into why I'm missing being able to go to Mass. There is something about being in the Presence that feeds me. We have a thousand hungers nowadays that are going unfed. This "social distancing" is possibly the hardest and also the most interesting thing I've ever tried to do.
I know people are dying in droves due to this virus. So are our mindless expectations of what our lives are supposed to be. We are all taking an inventory of what is important to us, and some of the answers are surprising. When there is no restaurant or movie theater or pub to escape to, where do we go when it all gets to be too much? We are forced to endure our own company and to think about what we are doing and why. Whom do we love? What is there about them that we miss? Why is this panic rising at the thought that nothing we know will ever be the same again? We are all standing naked before ourselves and facing, often for the first time, who we really are, what we really care about, and (here's the kicker) that none of this will last forever, including us.
I have pretty much come to grips with the fact that I will never know what it's like to live in a really clean house. I always think I'll have time to get to those tasks I keep putting off. This virus has done me a favor by showing me that I do not have all the time in the world, and whatever it is that I feel is truly important had better be given attention right now. It won't be the house. But I ache for the presence of my children and my friends.
RSS Feed