The novelty of this new way of being in the world will probably wear off at some point, but today--on my two brief forays into the outside world, stores' shelves close to empty, I noticed that we strangers are all making eye contact, sweet, brief, tentative. Clerks say "Stay well!' and "Be safe."
We shoppers say hello sometimes, but we don't actually stop to chat; we just call out to each other and move on.
Mostly, we smile a kind of "we're all in this together" way. Parents are trailed by children, but there is an eery silence compared to the chatter we usually hear. We're all thinking: wipe the cart, cover your nose with the hand-wipe afterwards, make a beeline to what we intend to buy, remember to wash your hands when you get home, twenty seconds.
People are mostly staying inside their houses, making things, reading, watching movies and TV. We probably have enough for a few days' meals in the freezer, but maybe it's time to learn to order groceries online.
We're canceling gatherings and lunches and planned events. We're not hugging or patting or kissing anyone--which is really odd in this tribe.
The phone rings more often. Friends and family we can't see in person reach out by phone and text.
The air feels more fragile, more potentially filled up with dangerous bugs. But the trees and plants continue to sprout new leaves just as if nothing strange is going on. The stray cat who's always accepted my gifts of leftovers but never come up close--he's getting closer as if he does know something strange is going on.
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