It is a process when we leave the house, on the rare cases when we leave the house. It is early spring in Chicago. That means changing from the sweat pants or pajamas into long pants, tee shirt, sweatshirt and jacket to dress appropriately for the still mostly cool weather. I shower out of respect for the others I might encounter outside the confines of our home and because, frankly it feels good, both physically and emotionally, a normal activity, as opposed to the abnormality that is our new normal during this time. Then, as I step out the door, I don the final accessory, newly acquired from our neighborhood hardware store, a face mask, making me look as if I am about to engage in either extensive home renovation or a bank robbery.
It feels like a city under siege. The usually busy street is almost devoid of humanity. The few individuals scurrying down the sidewalk bear a wary, often weary look. Many, like I, are wearing face masks. Not for our own protection but for the protection of others.
As I move down the aisles of our neighborhood grocery store I engage in the now familiar 6 foot distance dance. The mask can be difficult to breath through. I speak briefly to the young woman checking me out. I find myself starved for human contact, however fleeting. I return home past the now silent barber shop, usually a busy beehive of activity, closed stores, a gym, one of a chain, it's doors locked, it's lights out, it's machines idle and thinly staffed restaurants, only take out and delivery available during this odd moment in time.
As I come through the back door of our building I run into our resident engineer, also wearing a mask. We greet one another and exchange a few words from a safe distance before I head up the stairs to my life for the time being, It's confines being the walls of our apartment, playing out behind our front door.
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