We’re all feeling the effects of keeping social distance. It’s not easy.
While I miss the people I regularly see in my neighborhood and community, the hardest part for me is the loved ones who live far away. Yes, I am used to not seeing them every day. But I thought I’d be with them again, in a definable and reasonable time period.
I miss my son.
I last saw him 5 weeks ago, when we had never heard the term “social isolation.” When we said goodbye then, I knew we wouldn’t see him until May 1, when we would go to Ann Arbor for his college graduation. That was going to be a ten-week separation — the longest I’d ever gone without seeing him.
Spoiler alert: coronavirus hit. As classes shut down and graduation was cancelled, he wanted to stay in Ann Arbor with his friends, and we hesitatingly agreed. As the situation has escalated, I am realizing that I probably will not get to see him May 1, as we will likely still be social distancing. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. And even though he’s 23 (not a child), any parent knows its hard to go that long without wrapping your child in a hug.
I miss my parents.
My last trip to see my parents was in January for my mom’s 90th birthday. I assumed I’d go back to Oklahoma in March or April. Now that doesn’t seem safe or practical, either for them or for me. Even if I am perfectly healthy when I leave Ohio, I could become contaminated during the journey, bringing them an unwelcome gift of coronavirus.
Every day brings announcements of more severe travel restrictions. Some states are requiring mandatory 14-day self-quarantine when you arrive in that state, especially if you came from a hot-spot state. That could mean that even if I travel to see my loved ones, I might have to quarantine for 14 days before I see them. The journey from Ohio to Oklahoma has become quite daunting, and I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to make it again.
I miss my friend.
My best friend lives 858 miles from me. We talk and text often — at least every day — and we get to see each other a few times a year. She’s the sweet to my salty, my shoulder to cry on, and the one person who thinks I’m funny. I wish she lived in my town, in my neighborhood, on my block. But she doesn’t. So when we part, we do so knowing that we will certainly see each other in a few months, so we’re, you know, “cool.”
I last saw her in the fall, when we had 3 separate opportunities to spend time together. It was a different world then, and we didn’t realize or appreciate the luxury of travel. We went to college football games, shopped in crowded stores, shared nightcaps in crowded bars, and went on a boat tour loaded with tourists from all over the world. We might have even carelessly complained about the inconvenience of delayed flights or inconsiderate seat-mates. We took for granted that we would see each other soon, in interesting and fun environments, sharing meals and other adventures.
When this passes, I vow to appreciate the great blessing it is to travel to see the people I love.
(This post is snapshot of my thoughts today. In no way do I intend to minimize the suffering of those infected with coronavirus, or the challenges to health care and other essential workers on the front line.)
For more about spending time with the people we love, please see:
