This week in Ontario, we got about an inch closer to living life a fraction of the way we remember it. (Curbside pickup, baby! But also: how is that going to work, and I\u2019m already overwhelmed, and you know what? I\u2019ll just shop online for a while I think and by \u201cshop online\u201d I mean \u201clook at websites and buy nothing because I am terrified that I won\u2019t have any money in about a month from now.)<\/p>\n
And for the record, I\u2019m not ready for whatever \u201cnormal\u201d is now or for us to congregate in crowds or press resume on a reality that doesn\u2019t exist anymore. In fact, I\u2019m afraid! I\u2019m nervous and apprehensive and want very much to shout, \u201cViruses don\u2019t care about how much work we put in! Let\u2019s go super slow!\u201d But I won\u2019t, because I think a good part of these feelings reflect my own neuroses, and to combat them I will take baby steps and choose to nap my way through my inevitable meltdowns. (Our brains! Forever changed!) I will not project them onto anybody else, and I will accept that all of us feel a million ways because none of us have gone through a pandemic before. Everybody feels like a mess and we\u2019re all cursed whirlpools of emotions. Just please, for the love of all that is good, don\u2019t stop washing your hands.<\/p>\n
But in these moments (of despair) I\u2019ve started thinking more and more about the little things I miss that stray from the norm of hugging friends, family, and eating the same table as all of them. My world as small (as we\u2019ve already discussed), and now so are my aspirations. So in the spirit of raindrops on roses (weak) and whiskers on kisses (adorable), these are what I\u2019ve put on my mental vision board whenever I think about what I want so badly to do again.<\/p>\n
Again, seeing friends and family are already assumed. I\u2019m not a monster.<\/p>\n
Thrift stores<\/strong><\/p>\n Think about it. Think about the aisles of second hand clothes, the stories each t-shirt tells, and the joy of finding a dress from 1994 that fits perfectly despite it being listed as the wrong size for some reason. Toss me into that waiting pile of shorts and skirts that smell like decades-old cigarette smoke and fabric softener that reminds me of being little. This is my home now. Let me drift to sleep in rayon and polyester.<\/p>\n Sitting on a bench<\/strong><\/p>\n Any bench. Any bench will do. I would like to sit on a bench and watch the world pass me by, and I would like that bench not to be the one at the cemetery by my Nana\u2019s grave. Not because I don\u2019t like sitting there (it\u2019s so beautiful!) but because I think at this point she\u2019s getting sick of me.<\/p>\n Touching merchandise <\/strong><\/p>\n My friend Carla is the originator behind this reminder, but wow what a dream-thought to get us through a Thursday afternoon: touching items in stores. Do you intend to buy them? Not even slightly. But think about the splendor of picking up something you think is kind of alright, seeing the price tag, then thinking, \u201cUgh \u2013 no.\u201d My kingdom for this moment. My universe for the privilege to putting my hands on an overpriced shirt and thinking, \u201cOh, that actually feels pretty cheap.\u201d<\/p>\n Trying on anything<\/strong><\/p>\n I have no idea what size I wear in real pants anymore. Not a clue. I have some jeans I got right before quarantine, but they\u2019re a little bit snug, and I\u2019d rather be comfortable than stop snacking in hopes of pouring myself into a lesser size. (Also, I love snacking. So: two things.) And this wouldn\u2019t be a problem if I could descend on the mall and try on some shorts. But guess what: I cannot. And so in my spare time I\u2019ve come to think about the splendor of picking up armfuls of discounted denim and thinking, \u201cOkay! Let\u2019s see what fits!\u201d Instead, I\u2019ve ordered some jeans online. Will they fit? There\u2019s no way to tell. This is choose your own adventure, but each adventure is boring as hell.<\/p>\n