Some days I feel I’m a character in “The Handmaid’s Tale.” On others, more like the victim of the world’s biggest prank.
When you look out of the window, nothing seems to have changed. But if you venture anywhere you used to go on a regular basis, the vision is distorted. New rules and regulations the government has put into practice make me feel like we’re living in a dystopian society. It got me to thinking what I miss about my previous life, the one I took for granted just a few short weeks ago.
If I asked you what you missed most, I imagine you might say family. While it’s true we are all living with the immediate family members we normally reside with, there’s no stopping by to see your sister on the next street, grandma a couple of towns over or cousins just a short flight away. We’re all sheltering in place, cowering at the thought that one wrong step outside the door will open us up to the dreaded coronavirus.
As someone who lives 5,000 miles away from her family, I have to admit missing them is not at the top of my list. We’ve always communicated by phone, Facebook and the WhatsApp and, if anything, things are even easier now we’ve discovered the Zoom and Houseparty apps.
What I do miss are the insignificant things I did every day, like going to a movie theater whenever I liked or browsing around a store wondering what size pants will fit me this week.
After missing my favorite Panera salad, I decided to visit the drive-thru and pick one up. I settled down at my kitchen table with my Kindle, just like I would if I were at the restaurant. After a few bites, I realized it wasn’t the salad I missed but the interactions I have when I’m there.
Above all, I missed Leonard.
Leonard is a café associate who executes his job as a server with the same enthusiasm as the maitre d at a Michelin-starred restaurant. He greets every customer like a long-lost friend and never fails to say hello to me even though I’ll admit I usually have my head in my book.
I’ve never bothered to ask him how his day is going, what he does when he’s not at work, why he feels it’s important to go above and beyond in what, to be fair, could be a pretty menial job. When all this is over, I’m going to give him a copy of this column so he knows just how important he is and apologize for not showing him how much I appreciate his hard work.
My dog Daisy misses my wonderful cleaning lady Julia almost as much as I do. I admit I’ve been taking it for granted that once every two weeks my house will gleam without my having to lift a finger. Julia is Daisy’s favorite person in the entire world because she’ll spend a good five minutes petting her before she starts work.
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When picking up a box of hair color at Walgreens, I thought about how much I miss my hairdressers. Again, it’s not just because they keep my hair looking great (it takes a village), but because I enjoy catching up with them every six weeks or so.
I’ve watched Lindsay go through a marriage and the birth of two beautiful little girls. For months I enjoyed hearing the plans for Leann’s wedding. It was going to be a small affair in Chicago followed by an incredible trip to Paris and Italy. For Leann, the most important thing about the event was having a stunning array of photographs to remember her big day. I can only hope all this can be rearranged when life returns to normal.
I also miss my communities, particularly my synagogue and the Rotary Club of Naperville. I’ve been a member of both since we moved here 13 years ago so I was pretty excited when I learned both planned to hold meetings via Zoom.
The synagogue gatherings have gone well. To be honest we probably have more attendees now than we do regularly. We are able to see and hear our cantor sing beautifully, recite prayers and receive words of wisdom from our rabbi.
Our regular Thursday lunchtime Rotary meetings are great too. So many people are engaged and we can still do much of the good work we always do. But it’s different. As a service organization we are always helping others, but suddenly the need is overwhelming.
From a personal point of view, I don’t know what to do next. My head spins when I think of all the nonprofits that cannot do fundraising, the churches that can’t be open to help the homeless, the money the Rotary still needs to provide much-needed student scholarships. The list is endless.
Sure it’s nice to see shots of everyone on their computers from home, but it doesn’t replace the camaraderie of sharing stories over the lunch table at Meson Sabika.
I know I can still get a Starbucks coffee whenever I want by using the drive-thru but it’s not something I’m going to do. I don’t miss the coffee, I miss filling in a spare hour or two over a drink and a light lunch either alone or with friends. I miss meeting interviewees who tell me their stories so I can share them with you. I miss the hustle and bustle of the shop downtown, the smell of the coffee, the whispers of the crowd.
Most of all I miss making plans. I’m always thinking about the next party, the next vacation, the next time we’ll see our family. I know the situation we are in now is only temporary, but dream as much as you like, there’s no point in actually booking anything until we know the current crisis is over.
Another thing I miss is having a substantial newspaper around this column. The reason there are less pages than usual isn’t because the reporters and columnists aren’t prepared to work. It’s because the advertising revenue that drives the whole organization is down.
I’m regularly reading stories of papers around the country that have folded (no pun intended) and my heart aches for every one of them. Print news has been struggling for years and so I appreciate every single one of you who still take a subscription.
What is it you miss most? Perhaps like me, it’s the little things or maybe, like Leann, you’ve had to sacrifice an important event that you’ve looked forward to for so long.
One thing I do believe is that each day we are one step nearer to the end of all of this. One day soon there will be vacations to take, parties to enjoy, new shows and movies to open, new menus to savor. They’ll be so much to cram in we won’t know what to do first. I trust we’ll all seize each day because we’ll appreciate all those ordinary things we took for granted for so long.
And if one day in the distant future you suddenly say, “Do you remember when we couldn’t stand next someone in the line at Jewel,” and laugh, well, that will be all right too.
Hilary Decent is a freelance journalist who moved from England to Naperville in 2007.