First came sports, then concerts, then school, no more birthday parties or potlucks, weddings and funeral indefinitely postponed, long gone vacations, carnivals, races, and community celebrations.
Social contact halted by microscopic germs, by the tyranny of the tiniest of cells, by a virus who doesn't care about our calendars.
So we wash our hands to the tune of a song we no longer sing amongst friends, and we hunker down in our homes, hoping this is only an interruption to our regularly scheduled programs, a pause to reflect on what of all the hubbub and buzz remains essential, and what can be washed down the drain with our suds.
I know what I miss most of all, more than parties, festivals, or shows, more than restaurants, movie theaters, or sports arenas, is handshakes, high-fives and hugs. Especially the hugs.
When the sun rises on the day we emerge from our houses, hesitant, but willing to reengage with a wounded world, may we still find a way to touch each other.
May we still find a way to touch each other.
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