in Three Scenes

I find myself during these times of isolation, searching for signs of connection. Sometimes my concentration pays off.

Scene 1:

     My daughter-in-law called me on February 15 and reminded me that that very day was their wedding anniversary, their 18th (Chai) anniversary. I had completely forgotten. My first reaction was horror; how could I have missed it? But my second, in these odd times, was gratitude; deeply felt gratitude that we had the kind of close relationship which enabled her to tell me truth because she knew I would figure it out at some point and feel awful.

     So, we short circuited the experience. I apologized for my fuzzy head, and then I simply said: Thank you. Our connection is such that we can be real with one another.  We are attached in a deeper way than simply sending greeting cards on a particular date.

Scene 2:

     We were out to dinner with our neighbor. He is an interesting guy. I like him. We enjoy one other’s company. Not a close friend, but still, someone I would describe as friend; a like-minded being in these divided times.

     We ordered our meals. He got something fishcentric and healthy. I ordered the down low burger and fries. He chirped, “Oh good, chips!” (Yes, he is a Brit.)

     Our meals arrived. As soon as the plates were set in front of us, Peter helped himself to one of my crispy, hot fries. Some people would find that presumptuous, if not downright rude; I found it endearing. Clearly, he felt comfortable and connected enough to know I would be happy to share my bounty. I enjoyed his enjoyment.

Scene 3:

     On a recent visit to my local CVS to pick up a prescription, I searched for the appropriate line to await service. These days there are lines for everything. I wandered down one aisle where a gentleman was standing in waiting mode.

     “Is this the pick-up line?” I asked.

      He was quick. He looked at me and quipped:

     “Why, are you trying to pick me up?”

      I am 79, he was probably 50. We both started giggling. Two people on the same wavelength and able to connect with a shared laugh. That was far better medicine than the pills I retrieved.

These moments feel all the more important these days.  Do you find it so? Or is it just I who is looking for the glue or duck tape to bring us back together?