Boy, these times they are a changing.

Now that I have allowed myself the privilege of returning to the actual grocery store rather than the virtual replacement of filling my online cart only to have the items removed by the time I get to ‘check out,’ I struggle.

It takes me literally all morning to coax myself out the door.

The process starts with a slow-motion rollover to check the clock; I calculate that I have plenty of time to get to the store before lunchtime. However, the coaxing continues for a few more hours as I find myself relearning the simple process of getting out of bed and becoming presentable for the public: brush my teeth, tame my wild, pandemic hair, corral my frenzied look behind a mask (don’t forget the mask!), and choose either the navy or the black joggers that I’ve been rotating between for the last three months.

I procrastinate a bit more. Actually, I’ve perfected the art of procrastination during this time at home. It was quite easy to obtain the procrastination level of perfection. I scored a perfect 10.

GETTING BACK OUT THERE IS LIKE RIDING A BIKE

Once I am situated in my car, I fear I may have forgotten how to drive, but it truly is like riding a bike; I still remember to use my turn signal and obey simple traffic rules, which is effortless since the amount of traffic is severely reduced.

As it turns out, it doesn’t matter much about my appearance because none of the other shoppers can discern my expression behind my mask. Am I smiling? Am I scowling? Or am I about to rob the place?

As I attempt to return to my normal habits, I take a list. Somehow, I still leave the store without one item because I’m too frantic to find it, I leave with a wrong item because I reach around an employee stocking the shelves and didn’t want to bump into him, and I leave with a duplicate item because it was placed in the wrong space. But I made it out alive, so I am relieved.

As a quiet observer, I also noticed most people had exceedingly full carts, as if they were still shopping for the Apocalypse or they too hadn’t been to the grocery store in as many weeks. It seems people are also hesitant to venture out daily but, like me, prefer limited bulk shopping.

There is a dutiful, nondescript employee counting the civilians as we enter and depart the store; she blends in so easily that you almost miss seeing her until she announces the store is at full capacity. I was so close to not gaining entry when I arrived. That will teach me to squander an anxiety-riddled morning to get to the store before the ‘rush.’

But it’s not just grocery shopping or maintaining proper social distancing when we finally get to the store.

HOW WILL WE RECONNECT ONCE WE ARE OUT THERE?

It’s about reconnecting as human beings.

I worry about a great many things these days, more than I ever have in the recent past, but the one thing, the one nagging, gnawing thing that concerns me the most is, how we will reconnect.

What will we say to one another? What will we have to say to one another?

Everyday has run into the next so much so that we now joke relentlessly about what day of the week it is. There is no going to work or school or the gym to have a reason to keep track. Daily life has become one long continuum of…nothingness.

As we come out of our cocoons, not only will it be difficult to know what to say to one another, but it will be just as challenging to greet one another. No hug, no handshake. Reduced to elbow bumping? Somehow it seems uncivilized in a civilization that craves human connection.

This week my calendar has a few ‘scheduled’ events, which also has me in a state of panic. I’ve specifically placed them on my calendar hours apart to make sure I can adhere to once again having a schedule, albeit a limited one. I’m nervous as a few appointments are outside of the house, my biggest fear being that I can cajole myself to get there on time (see previous mention of slow motion rollover to check the clock; it’s an extremely bad habit).

I will be easy to spot; I will be the one wearing a baseball cap and a mask.

WHAT WILL YOU HAVE TO SAY?

Again, as a quiet observer, I have noticed that the Zoom chats which were so fresh and fun way-back-when are no longer being scheduled. Why? Has the novelty worn off? More likely, we have nothing to say to one another, as I predicted.

For instance, last week I called three friends in the same day, which is unlike me because I am not a huge phone-talker. Let’s face it, I was feeling vulnerable and needed a human connection.

Not one friend answered. Not one friend called me back.

I didn’t take it personally but realized they are probably feeling like me, caught up in days that all resemble one another with no sense of what day it is or how long we have been in this nightmare. Preoccupied at home taking care of their own business.

So, what is there to say? Can we keep complaining and worrying about the pandemic as it continues to go on around us and consume our lives? Do we only have movie and book titles we’ve enjoyed during complete isolation to share? Or am I underestimating our temporary dormant ability to converse?

We all want it to be normal again. Of this I am sure. We just don’t know what constitutes normal anymore, and it will probably be this way for some time as we overcome our fears of the unknown and attempt to get back to our lives as we knew them.

We will get there. Of this I have faith.

To read Scout’s thoughts from the beginning of the pandemic, click here