As I sat in my car, a man wearing a mask approached my vehicle and knocked on the trunk. I pressed the release button, watching him toss a plastic bag inside before slamming it shut and darting away without a word. The encounter felt surreal, almost like a scene from a dream. While driving home from the store, I found myself questioning, “Is this really happening?”
In the past two months, a strange tension has enveloped my everyday life, giving rise to an unsettling feeling that something ominous lurks beneath the surface of our usual family routine. Initially, I attributed the oddness of the outside world to the lack of visible faces. Although I’m not alone in my isolation, as there are still signs of life around me, the connections have become tenuous. Packages appear on my porch, delivered by unseen hands, while an abandoned soccer ball sits in our yard, left untouched by our young neighbor, fearful to reclaim it. The meals we order arrive courtesy of strangers who prepare and package our food, leaving me to ponder details on receipts, such as the name scrawled in bold letters—was it a man’s or a woman’s? My boredom and longing for connection were palpable.
Returning home from my errand, I was greeted by the familiar sounds of my children bickering over a toy. Their voices, despite being raised in argument, provided a strange comfort amidst the chaos. Yes, our home has transformed into a louder place during the pandemic, but the outside world has stripped away the simple joys of casual conversations—chats with the barista, exchanges with other parents, and interactions at school. As an extroverted stay-at-home mom, I deeply miss those small moments that energized me and connected me to my community.
Moreover, my few interactions with others have taken on a new, anxiety-laden quality. Safety partitions separate me from cashiers, and neighbors shift to the opposite side of the street as I walk by. Once, while waiting outside a restaurant, I felt a twinge of fear that anyone could be a potential risk, including myself.
Even virtual interactions offer limited solace. My six-year-old engages with friends on Google Classroom, reduced to pixelated images, while my older child tries to navigate conversations among a chorus of muted voices. Zoom gatherings, though enjoyable, often highlight the absence of physical presence. During a recent virtual meeting with former students, one participant placed his palm against the screen to say goodbye, and it struck me just how much I yearn for touch.
The people I’m closest to are tactile beings. We greet each other with hugs, comfort one another with hand-holding, and celebrate milestones with high fives. Touch is a fundamental part of our connections, from the handshakes on the first day of school to the embraces at graduation. It is deeply ingrained in our lives.
Touch is the first sense that develops in the womb, and research shows that affectionate contact stimulates growth in children and alleviates emotional distress in adults. While everyone has different comfort levels regarding physical interactions, I realize I miss the warmth of touch more than anything else. I long to hug my sister, to shake hands with teachers who have worked tirelessly during this time, and to hold my father’s hand in moments of solace. I want to see my children run across a yard with their cousin, feeling the joy of unrestrained play.
There is much speculation about when life will return to normal. Will we feel safe traveling again? Will children feel secure in returning to school? The answers remain uncertain. However, my sense of unease will dissipate when I can replace touch screens and digital interactions with genuine human contact. For more insights on navigating these changes, you can visit one of our other blog posts at this link.
In summary, the pandemic has stripped away more than just physical interactions; it has created a sense of incompleteness that can only be filled by the warmth of human touch. The longing for connection, whether through a simple hug or a reassuring pat on the back, is more profound than ever.
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