Opening the Door

You may think I’m exaggerating, and I am…but only a little. Isolation is disorienting. I understand how the students feel about returning to school after being away so long. It was as though I had been living in the wilds and was suddenly thrust into human society—like a pet dog asked to sit at the table. I felt silly. I probably sounded silly. I fretted about my table manners. Had I overdressed? I gushed with praise for the food in its subtlety and glory. I thought of tourists from small towns seeing New York for the first time, gawking at the buildings. I gawked at the food.

My apologies to those who haven’t yet had an opportunity to consider themselves fully vaccinated. I’m not gloating, only reminding you that there is a beautiful light at the end of the tunnel that makes the trip worthwhile. For once, my husband and I didn’t have to fear. We have done all we can to protect ourselves and everyone we contact. We aren’t going to blow our progress now, but sensible outings are finally okay.  

Merrick Garland was sworn in this week. Accountability lives. Soon struggling Americans will receive financial relief thanks to the members of Congress who dare to care. Soon everyone who wishes to will be vaccinated and we can hope we have thwarted the variants quickly enough. I thought I’d be breathing easily before now, but recovery takes time and we’ve had only 50 days. I’m deeply saddened about all those who died or are dying—perhaps needlessly—and the families with spaces at the table. How do they heal? Trivially, I’m wondering how I can find new clothes that fit me well when so many stores have gone strictly online. (I hate handling returns.) Keeping gatherings small will be difficult but a refreshing change from being alone. We’ve all been emotionally injured. We’ve burned up our reserves. Our hope was severely battered. But it’s back. And the scampi dinner was marvelous. Welcome home, everyone! I missed you.