Captain Mom's Log: Week 6: Day 40
I'm starting to get used to the oscillating weather. And I do love the way the rain shimmers on the kelly-green leaves. Rain or shine, I make my way outside now. If the animals can do it in their fur, I can grab an umbrella. I met a man on my walk. We had a conversation. A real live conversation. His image didn't glitch out. His voice didn't warble or chop itself into bits. We spoke and the sound waves traveled directly through the air from one person to the other. From six feet away. When it ended he gave me the most quizzical look and we each went on our way. Human contact. Interaction with people is rare these days. I'm afraid to have a conversation in the grocery store. Go in, collect needed items, go out. Don't dawdle. Don't breath on anyone. Only get what's on the list. Except for those windmill cookies. And the key lime pie.
I don't feel human in the store. Everyone is plastic wrapped in their own little bubble and there is no human contact. Even the cashiers stand as far away as they can. They lean back every so slightly as they scan and bag. They are mentally unplugged from the monotony of their job. Probably planning the quickest route of escape for when their shift finally comes to an end. Dear, God, when will it end? It's eerily quiet in the store now. Conversations unleash unnecessary and germy air.
It felt human to speak to someone in the neighborhood. Nice, even. The kind look at the end said it all. A pause, head tilt. We don't have the right kind of contact with humans in this new world. Was the look kind or was it more perplexed? It might have been a confused look. What if I said something awkward? He might have had a strange look on his face because I might have been incoherent. I may have forgotten how to carry on a conversation. I'm pretty sure I was terribly awkward before all of this happened. Does that mean I'm even worse now or is everyone else losing their minds and they are now on my level of awkwardness? I'm going to say it was a kind look. The kind you give to another human being because you just shared a moment in time. A moment that was just like the old days. How it used to be.
END TRANSMISSION
I don't feel human in the store. Everyone is plastic wrapped in their own little bubble and there is no human contact. Even the cashiers stand as far away as they can. They lean back every so slightly as they scan and bag. They are mentally unplugged from the monotony of their job. Probably planning the quickest route of escape for when their shift finally comes to an end. Dear, God, when will it end? It's eerily quiet in the store now. Conversations unleash unnecessary and germy air.
It felt human to speak to someone in the neighborhood. Nice, even. The kind look at the end said it all. A pause, head tilt. We don't have the right kind of contact with humans in this new world. Was the look kind or was it more perplexed? It might have been a confused look. What if I said something awkward? He might have had a strange look on his face because I might have been incoherent. I may have forgotten how to carry on a conversation. I'm pretty sure I was terribly awkward before all of this happened. Does that mean I'm even worse now or is everyone else losing their minds and they are now on my level of awkwardness? I'm going to say it was a kind look. The kind you give to another human being because you just shared a moment in time. A moment that was just like the old days. How it used to be.
END TRANSMISSION
Comments
Post a Comment