Pandemic Blues: A Cold-Storage Reunion
Unlike many who chose to document their lives during this unfortunate pandemic; their awe of working from home, their joy of family life, up to their frustrations of being confined, I chose not to acknowledge the situation at all.
To me, personally, no acknowledgment always means no existence.
I plan to survive this pandemic and pretend that my months (please don’t make it years) of staying at home can just be written off as me, perfecting the art of being the ultimate introvert.
I plan to tell my grandchildren that Eyang stayed home, painting, farming, carving linoleums and produced these beautiful artworks displayed here at the MoMA.
I plan to live online and see my friends through the screens and proudly say to those risking their lives to physically meet their friends, “Pfft why don’t you fucking use Zoom or Google Hangouts?”
While I think I am still on track with plan 1 and 2, I just found out today that I have failed miserably at plan 3.
I just attended a meeting this evening and as I stepped out the venue, I texted my best friend, whom I haven’t seen since January, that I would love to invite her for dinner since I’m in her neighborhood but I’m still afraid to eat in a restaurant so why not accompany me grocery shopping?
She, of course, being the angel she is, said yes and agreed to meet me.
I arrived at the supermarket and started to get the things I needed. Five minutes in, I heard her voice:
“Nyet.” — ‘Monkey’ in English, our term of endearment to each other.
I turned and saw her wearing a mask, t-shirt and shorts -or was it a dress, I really couldn’t remember. All I recalled is running towards her but consciously stopping a few feet before I get too close.
And there we were, standing face to face after ten months. Not being able to hug, a reflex we grew to sharpen after 24 years of being besties, and it frustrated the hell out of us.
We began to cry, arms outstretched, wanting to reach and comfort each other, but we know we can’t because of safety protocols. In front of the vegetablr cold storage, we cried, heaving, like we just lost somebody we love.
We cried for a good five minutes, and in supermarket time, that’s eons.
Now that I thought back on it, the employees who were in charge of weighing and packing fruits wete standing nearby doing their thing, but they paid no attention to us drama queens. It makes me wonder whether we weren’t the first girls who cried in front of the veggies. Maybe the last encounter happened in the cereal aisle nearby.
Maybe.
After the crying subsided and we finally regain control of our dramatic selves, weirdly enough, we went shopping separately. Yes we pass by each other and chatted about products (like how Lotus Biscoff is just Verkade’s Speculaas for millennials) and how offended she was about a 90K IDR small pack of kerupuk opak.
No deep talks, no chats about career, life in general or whatnot. We were just two girls, shopping somewhat together, but not really. We were just vibing as besties, the only way we did it back in university days: grocery shopping.
But all good things must come to an end, and we queued up at the cash register, reluctantly paying for our groceries. At this point, everything seem to have gone in slow-motion.
We walked outside the supermarket, washed our hands, and while waiting for my driver to load the goods into the car, we stood face to face and started to cry again.
“Should this be immortalized? Do you want to take a selfie together?” I asked her amid tears still streaming from my eyes AND hers.
“Sure I do! Just don’t stand too close to me.”
We took a selfie with my phone camera.
“You want a ride home?”
“Nah. I’ll walk.”
Because why would she share a car ride with me after being so careful? In normal times I’d be hurt, but in this Covid era, I totally understand -and to be completely honest: a bit relieved.
On the quiet car ride home, I get so humbled by the fact that I actually DO have a need to see my soul tribes: people I love and care about outside the ones in my own house. I do need to hug them tight and make sure they’re alright. I do need to assure them that I am alright and that I’m happy to see them.
Until this evening, it turns out, that I have been taking hugs for granted. I never realize the impact of giving hugs and not being able to give them. I never realized that after-work Zoom sessions with friends is just talking heads and mostly microphone problems.
I never realized physical reality is damn important for human beings, especially those whose love language is touch. Like me. I might be an introvert -a real one, not the glorified internet-meme introvert-, but I do need the company of those I trust and love sometimes. 42 years of life, I just realized this today.
The pandemic is indeed teaching us about never taking anything for granted. What we have now may be gone tomorrow, learn to live with the bare minimum, tell people you love whenever you feel like it, regardless of whether the feeling is mutual.
And hug those you’re still allowed to hug: often.
One more thing, while the supermarket employees didn’t interrupt our sob-fest, both my bestie and I agreed that crying while wearing your mask is freaking difficult and not advisable. OR, just bring spare masks.
If you love someone, tell them today. Never take anything for granted. I’ll start by saying this to you:
I love you, feel free to love me back. Or not.
