Why does normal feel so strange?
On Monday my Library announced, as of Wednesday masks would be optional, and all the chairs in the reading room available again, the yellow tape that for a year has made it resemble a crime scene, gone.
I cheered at the news.
How is it then walking in, half expected the virus to be on the couch reading the Post?
That said.
I’ve come to realize more than ever, how resilient we are, how well we took that pandemic punch getting up before the bell rang.
Good soldiers we were standing six feet apart, forgiving our more paranoid brethren, sheltering-in-place like bears with books, Netflix, and Amazon Prime.
I can now go to Starbucks minus a breastplate, and Whole Foods without my spear.
Keeping a mask in your wallet like an emergency white flag is what’s recommended.
I wonder, how long will it take to be comfortable in the new now?
Will it be like getting over a broken heart?
The poets say how ever long the affair lasted will take that long for the heart to heal. So will it take roughly a year and a half you think, to comfortably go out to eat scrambled eggs again without Purell sitting across the table?
Now to get used to being back to normal.
