I’ve walked around my beautiful neighborhood in NYC pretty much every day since this crisis began – first bundled in winter coats, then layered in sweaters and scarves, and finally in a sundress, mask and tennis shoes. Nobody knows me. Most folks don’t want to. They have enough on their minds. My geeky little secret? I wave and say hello to almost everyone I pass. Some people ignore me. I’ve made myself be ok with that. That’s their right. But if I don’t wave and say hello, how will I ever connect with the ones that do want to say hello— the ones as lonely and starved for human connection as I am. So I keep waving. And I keep hoping.
Today, Albany – the place I've called home longer than any other – seemed almost surreal to me; a place where people on the street not only know you, but seem warmed by your presence— happy to see you safe and home. A place where you feel the same way about them. A simple lunch with my dear friend Heather felt so incredibly special. Just the company and conversation of someone I love so much. Just to see her smile and hear her laugh up-close -- was so lovely and precious. A walk with Devon through Center Square to the Governor’s Mansion – just catching up with an amazing human-- was lovely. Running into my back alley neighbor, Bill so many times that each of us though the other was following them was delightful. And truth be told, I nearly cried a few times behind my mask, talking to Bill and neighbors Mark and John. Everyone I met today seemed so happy and genuinely glad to see each other. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s the fact that Covid quarantine and a cold spring have kept us so isolated. Maybe it was simply Smallbany – the nickname we give to a place where, if not quite everyone knows your name, chances are they know someone who does. Every interaction today felt heightened, more meaningful, important. Whatever it was, I’m grateful for it. Right down to Bill practicing the violin while Peter and Devon and I finished dinner, complete with gelato, berries and double dark Milanos, under the backyard twinkle lights. Quarantine has been harder on most people than it has on me. On me, it’s taken mostly an emotional toll. I'm an extrovert. I get my energy from interaction with others. I don't do well alone, which is how I've spent most of my time. Today was a tonic. Thank you to Heather for lunch, to Devon for the walk, to Bill and Mark and John and everyone I passed who waved and said hello, and to Peter, for knowing when I have to come home. And for taking me there.
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