[CRAFTED YESTERDAY]. It was a beautiful day today. I started the day by going to brunch with my parents to celebrate Father’s Day. It was a strange feeling, being out, but also lovely. The place we went to made us feel entirely comfortable. They followed social distancing guidelines and wore masks. Menus were paper to be discarded and voila…straws are back (I guess the poor turtles are put aside when a pandemic hits). Anyway, we were all able to feel safe and for that reason, we were able to enjoy each other’s company and be out…in public…with each other. Remember what that felt like?
Maybe you are someone who has been doing that all along. No comment. Maybe you are like me and you are now willing to take minuscule, safe baby steps. If you are like me, I wonder if you’ve had a similar experience. I know in my heart it is not going to be the same or normal for a long while, but I am willing to try and get as comfortable as possible in this normal. I am willing to be as selfless as I can to keep me, my family, my friends, and my neighbors (meant in a much more in a global sense) safe. Phew…rant over.
Anyway, life just feels a bit fucked right now, as we’ve discussed before, but I am trying to feel it out one day at a time. I am making an effort to focus on the good bits rather than the bits that feel like ill-fitting skin. I am trying to get accustomed to the way things are without getting used to them. Does that make sense?
Blah, blah. Diatribe over. That is not even the point of this post. I’m hoping the focus here is going to be a bit lighter and a bit less intense. Ready?
When I got home from brunch, I felt a bit antsy, so I decided to take a walk into town to get a lemonade. It’s a lovely warm day and we know I love being outside, so I threw on some sunscreen and a hat, grabbed my earbuds and out the door I went. It was super quiet. My guess is most people were at the beach or home enjoying some barbequing or the like. So, it was me and the town.
This is going to sound a little bizarre, but I love when no one is out and I’m walking and listening to music. I feel almost like I’m on a movie set with a soundtrack that is perfectly suited to my mood and taste.
So there I was, on my movie set, walking into town to pick up a curbside frozen lemonade on this perfectly sunshine-y day. I felt happy, which is something I will admit it’s been more challenging to feel lately. I didn’t feel pressure, judgement, disappointment, fear, anxiety, or any of the more difficult emotions that have come in and out lately. I just felt good. Light. Free.
I get to the place where I was picking up my frozen lemonade (no pre-order) and ask the girl if they indeed have frozen lemonade. It’s an Italian ices place and they make all kinds of slushie drinks, so reason would stand that they have frozen lemonade. Right? Anyway, I approach, masked-up, and inquire as to whether they have my drink of choice. “Oh no” one of the young woman behind the counter says, “we don’t have anything like that, just the stuff that’s on the menu on the wall.” I quickly glance at the wall and allow my eyes to run through the unappealing printed list in front of me. Too much. Way too much. I’m a simple kind of gal when it comes to drinks. I like my emotions complicated and my drinks unassuming. Passion fruit margarita? Nope. Tequila with a squeeze of lime? Yes. The craziest I get is a black and white milkshake or a well-made Manhattan. Anyway, I digress.
I didn’t want to spend too much time loitering during this ordering experience, so I did what I thought was going to be a little annoying for the staff and much better for me (this is a learned skill that I am trying to master—getting what I enjoy instead of settling), I think outside the box. I ask if they can take the lemon ice I like so much, put it in their drink making machine, and mush it up. They pause, look at each other, and the other young woman says “oh yeah, we can do that.” Um yeah, that’s frozen lemonade. At its finest. I don’t say anything outside of thanking them profusely. I am happy, I’ve gotten my frozen lemonade, with minimal fuss. I pay quickly and get back “on the road.”
As soon as I start to walk away, I find myself giggling. Asking them to blend a lemon ice to make lemonade was seemingly a revolutionary idea. They were perplexed and then accommodating and ultimately, pleased. It was quite literally one of the silliest experiences I had in quite some time. It was normal. They were silly young women. Not unintelligent. Not rude. Not dismissive. Just unimaginative and well, silly. In other words, they were normal. Behind the masks and gloves, outside of the strangeness of the set-up and my thought to our proximity, there was a fiery spark of regularity that I had been craving.
It was different than the restaurant experience. Brunch was lovely but it was very far from normal. Maybe a revised normal to get accustomed to, but certainly not a normal I can recall. My experience was altogether normal with those young women. They didn’t have anxiety that I could read off of them. They weren’t self-conscious or hyper-vigilant. They were literally silly young women working in an ices place to make some extra money over the summer. And you know what, I let myself take that in like nothing I’ve experienced in some time. I drank it up and it was more satisfying, more refreshing than that damn lemonade I carried and sipped the entire way home.
Imagine if we could all be respectful and follow the protocol that is STILL in place. Imagine if the things we were meant and able to focus on were the little bits of normal that usually invade our worlds. Imagine if we could giggle at the silliness and inexperience of children because they were permitted to remain children for the appropriate amount of time. Not disconnected. Not out of touch. Not ignorant. Just as they should be. Silly. Kids.
I like that thought. I’m going to keep it with me for a little bit. I’m also giving it to you.
Talk to you tomorrow.
L.
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