To say I think about returning to “normal” a lot would be an understatement. It’s honestly become the thing that occupies the vast majority of my continuous stream-of-thought throughout the day. I’m sure I’m not the only person like this, but.. suffice it to say.. returning to normal is, in the words of our 46th president, a big deal.
And of course, the calendar only compounds that sense, doesn’t it? We’re coming right up on the one year anniversary of all this horribleness. Time has a way of making big circles that help mark these occasions and make us want to reflect. Add to that the barest, faintest hint that spring might be arriving soon, and the anticipation just becomes overwhelming. I think one fault of mine is that I tend to live in the future too much as it is — always thinking about what life might be like over the next three months, or six months, or five years. But a Chicago spring is enough to make you want to forget the present entirely. Forget that you still have to put on three layers a standard matter of course each morning (tshirt, long sleeve or thermal, sweater/hoodie/overshirt) (repeat daily). The sense that the sun is really starting to shine more, the days are a little bit longer, and the snow is receding into its dirtiest, sootiest corners is enough to give real hope that life will soon be better.
So yes, soon enough there will be abundant vaccines, and friends who have gotten vaccines, and there will be bars and restaurants that have patios and indoor spaces and we will go to those places, and our weekends will be spent with friends instead of hanging out at home trying to figure out yet more ways to pass the time. There will be reasons to dress up for going out, and reasons to feel motivated to go for a run or go to the gym, and reasons to really plan ahead for what life will be like over the summer. Should I join a sports league of some sort? How will I meet new friends? Which of my old friends will come out with me, if I ask them to join in some activity or another? It really is, in an inspiring, wonderful sense — a beginning. There is so much to look forward to.
And yet. Today I had brunch with a friend for the first time since god knows when. I know, I know.. here I am going on and on about the anticipation of life when life will return to “normal,” and I failed to mention I had just today done that most normal of all city-dwelling weekend things, I went to brunch. And honestly, it was pleasant and fine and it was nice to get out. But it still had that pandemic vibe to it, you know? It was just the two of us. We sat outside, and it was 45 degrees in the sun, and we kept our coats on and didn’t linger, and didn’t for a moment consider doing a “bottomless mimosa” brunch because who in their right mind drinks the afternoon away when sitting outside in the cold. We sat hoping the wind would shift ever so slightly so as to blow the heat from the minuscule heat lamp a little further in our direction. So yes, it was brunch and it was nice and I was glad I Did a Thing Today and I Managed to Leave the House. But it was still life lived in grayscale.. at 50% capacity.. with the volume knob set at a solid 2. Pandemic activities are both necessary in order to survive the pandemic and also a repeated reminder that you are, in fact, in a pandemic and life is not normal.
The thing is though.. after brunch I got home, and I took my coat off, and I put my mask away and settled back in on the couch. And I was exhausted. Brunch had completely wiped me out for the day. I walked maybe a mile, sat outside and had a fried egg skillet and a bloody mary, and came home maybe 45 minutes or an hour later.. and I felt as though I had run a marathon. So much sitting, and talking, and interacting, and Doing Things! I needed a nap. Not a long one, mind you. Maybe 20 or 30 minutes. But like.. I was done for the day. How sad is that??? Maybe it’s just to be expected, a year into this horribleness. And I’m sure I’ll turn things around and get back in social shape soon enough. But boy. “Normal” requires so much more than we realize, I think. I’m still looking forward to it. But there’s no getting around the fact that it’ll take some time.
Anyway. This wasn’t an especially insightful or meaningful post, but it’s my first entry on Substack. I wanted to see how all this works. I’d like to think I could become a *poster* on here who *posts* somewhat regularly. But I've failed too many times at writing projects to make myself any promises. So we’ll see. More to come. Maybe.