I recognize that my view of this pandemic is privileged, as my husband and I are both able to work from home and we don’t have children to wrangle. My heart is with all of the people on the front lines of our communities, as well as those who are furloughed and struggling to pay their bills, or those who are barely holding on to their businesses. This is my limited perspective as a millennial teacher and artist during this time in our culture.
I’m an introvert. When stay at home orders were first announced, I spent late nights prepping online lessons and worrying about the health of my loved ones, but a big piece of me was thrilled with the prospect of being relegated to my own house. My mind flooded with images of teaching in my pajamas and relinquishing my role as daytime disciplinarian to my students’ parents. I savored the idea of having energy for afternoon studio sessions and weekend nights at home on the couch with my dog. If anyone was made for quarantine, it was me.
During the past eight weeks of working from home, I’ve learned a lot about the introversion I assumed of myself. I am so grateful for all of the things I was excited for, and really I’ve enjoyed many aspects of my privileged version of staying at home, but I genuinely miss interacting with people. I am lucky to share a home with my husband—he’s pretty amazing. He loves to vacuum, is a better cook than I am, and I feel like I’ve hit the life partner/quarantine buddy jackpot. Even though we have organized game nights, had date nights in, and done all the dang chores to keep ourselves busy, we aren’t able to fill the huge void where our loved ones usually reside in our daily lives. Zoom is no substitution for human contact, and it actually makes me kind of sad. It just seems to highlight the fact that we are so far apart.
Social distance is essential if we are going to overcome the COVID-19 crisis. I believe in wearing masks in public places and distancing from people outside of our own homes. We need to be rational and extra cautious. At the same time, we need to talk about loneliness and find safe ways to fill our natural cravings for friendship and community in a world of distance. What is this all going to look like as we move into a post-pandemic world?
I have found a connection outside of the lackluster world of video conferencing. This connection exists on Tuesday afternoons hiking and painting en plein air with my friend Jess (six feet apart, of course). Our first meeting was three weeks ago. As we hiked the Great Bay Wildlife Refuge trails and talked about teaching our students remotely and eating healthy during quarantine, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude just to be with a friend. We’ve met weekly since then, and I find myself craving these adventures the rest of the week. This past Tuesday, we spent the afternoon painting under waterfall mist on the WM maintained Gonic Trails in Rochester, NH. The COVID-19 experience has magnified my appreciation for spending uninterrupted, tech-free time with other people. I’m so extremely grateful for that awareness. Occupying the same outdoor, 6+ foot bubble will have to do until I can give Jess and all my other friends and family the hugest, relief-filled hugs.