It’s a surreal feeling — everything shut down while the world is exploding in color and bursting into bloom.

And we in Maryland are not quite on lock down yet and I know it’s barely been a week really. But a week can feel very long when things are shut down, and everyone is trying to scramble to figure out what the hell is going on. Just watch the news … they’re trying to make sense of it all with all kinds of explanations.

We all are supposed to stay away from each other and for the most part, that means a significant time inside. I’m thankful for spring right now and everything inside me is drawn to what is outside: the sunshine, the blossoms — pink, white, variegated — hovering, crowding on the trees.

I’m enjoying it on my own or in groups (spread out!) of a few or less. This last week has given me a bit of time to think — as I move from my dining table (working from home) to crashing on my couch 6 steps away (shortest commute ever).

Families living together obviously can hug each other and stay with each other. But when you live alone, wanting to be careful and keep your distance, the feeling of touch becomes another being all together.

So … admittedly, it’s tempting to answer the texts of “wyd?”,
… and shaving your legs becomes a somewhat tender moment between you and yourself …
… and when my hand brushed the cashier’s accidentally when giving her my card, we both pulled back quickly. No touching! But it was the first time I had had physical contact since Aza washed and cut my hair ten days ago. I hadn’t even thought of that until today.

It’s odd how quickly things become a new normal.

But while virtual dates and happy hours can provide stand-ins for now, I didn’t realize how much seeing a familiar face — that wasn’t just another floating head on my computer — meant to me until last night.

There’s nothing like seeing a loved one in person. I had dinner with a friend (in the park – apart from each other!) and just seeing her full self did me a world of good.

While we walked down the street, we ran into a few neighbors, and seeing them at a distance walking down the street just made my heart so happy. We didn’t hug or give high fives, but we stood in a wide circle talking, making introductions to our friends.

And I didn’t want to leave. I had the biggest smile on my face.

Just typing this, I still do. Call me sentimental or overly dramatic but I’m realizing how physical distance and contact is truly so important and while I’m not an excessively touchy-feely person (nor do I fall on the extreme of “don’t ever touch me”), I do have a new appreciation for those who may be more isolated than normal in regular times.

We have extremely short term memories and it would be easy when this is over to forget what a feeling of isolation can feel like or how our times with our families are precious or all the ways neighbors, customers and small business have stepped up for each other.

Yes, today, we continue to reach out and even more so via text and virtually (don’t forget!) — especially as our own shelter in place may become stronger.

But I’m writing this now to remember it for later: the importance of even just being there for someone — a presence in each other’s lives.

Ending with a poem from Rumi – a gift from a friend:

The Oldest Thirst There Is

“Give us gladness that connects
with the Friend, a taste of the quick.
You that make a cypress strong
and jasmine jasmine.

Give us the inner listening
that is a way in itself
and the oldest thirst there is.

Do not measure it out with a cup.
I am a fish. You are the moon.
You cannot touch me, but your light
fills the ocean where I live.”