From the Heart
And the ugly four-letter word for 2020 is … MASK.
Everyone has an opinion. Soon, everyone will need (or be forced) to wear one.
As my least favorite expression says, “It is what it is, whether you like it or not.”
For someone who is uncomfortable with confrontation, arguing and controversary this year has me overwhelmed and exhausted. I’m also fighting a sadness that I struggle to shake.
I haven’t been able to hug my mother since March 11. She’s 94 and tomorrow’s hugs are not promised. She has told me, “Jan, I just miss holding your hand.” It’s through her window that I see the effects of isolation and loneliness.
As a 16-month-old little boy – who knows me as Great Grandma Janet – toddles towards me, I have to back away. His parents cannot shelter because of their jobs so I hesitate to pick him up. Oh Jason, I hope you know how much I love you. I pray by the time his baby brother gets here in October I can hold both of them.
I scroll my Facebook page and before I get too far down, I see that the arguing has begun. It’s all about the mask. To wear or not to wear … that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler … oh Hamlet, where art thou? Help us Shakespeare!
I see people wrestling with anxiety and fear. The side effects of the pandemic are affecting all of us. We are weary. We are angry. We make plans. We cancel plans. When will this nightmare end?
I am so over the politics. I am so over the media. They tell me to lean to the left, lean to the right, stand up, sit down and everyone, fight, fight, fight.
A decision is made and the next thing you know … “Let’s get ready to rumble!”
I worry about the mental health of the kids going back to school or not going back to school. They need to be with their community. Heck, I need to be with my community.
I had looked forward to retiring and having more opportunities to be with my people. This weekend I’m sending gifts to two baby showers because I don’t feel safe in a crowd of people. Chuck and I are high risk. Our ages and his having eosinophilia don’t allow us to shrug off this virus.
We have not been to church in four months. FOUR MONTHS. For me, that is an eternity. Chuck and I sing and take communion at our kitchen table on Sunday mornings. Live, via our computer, we worship. I miss my spot in the pew. “Dear Lord, take me back to the place I took for granted.”
I’ve often have said that you should ask yourself, when you are getting upset over something … “Will this matter in five years?” Five years ago, I had no idea what little I had to be upset about.
In 2015, if you had asked me where I would be in five years, I definitely would not have said, “In the Twilight Zone deciding whether or not to wear a mask.”
I could not tell you the last time I put on lipstick. People only see my lips when I am walking to Forest Park. My getting ready for the day is no longer a 15-minute ritual of putting on my makeup. It’s now a swipe of eyeliner and a fluff to my hair and I am out the door … with my mask as my most important accessory. It has become a bracelet until I run into a store or a group of people, then it’s “Mask on!”
We only feel comfortable eating outside when we go to a restaurant. I never thought I would be considering how safe the ventilation is inside a restaurant or how far apart are the tables.
So back to that four-letter ugly word of 2020 that ends in a K. What is my opinion of having to wear a mask? Read my lips. Oh, that’s right, you can’t … I’m wearing a mask.