Touch. It’s something we do all the time, but also take for granted, or did, before now. The idea that we have to bring such awareness to what we touch and when we’ve touched it and take steps to wash what we’ve touched, away, is about so much more than touch. It touches on our very connection to each other, to the things and places around us and ultimately, the planet, and the way we are touched by it.
Touch. I miss touch that isn’t inadvertent but is for the express purpose of feeling something or someone, or just feeling.
We greet each other with it, bringing our hands together in the universal handshake, to show mutual respect in business. We hug, we kiss, we choose touch, to know each other better.
Without touch, we’re awkward, acknowledging we have chosen or been compelled to stand alone, to set ourselves apart from the very community we crave connection to. An elbow pump is like a mockery of what our instincts tell us, what our bodies, minds and hearts want intuitively – to touch.
I search my brain to come up with a creative way to greet people that will replace a hug, a handshake or a kiss. Outstretched arms, taking the palm of your hand and rubbing a circle around your heart, blowing fake kisses, maybe a fluttering of the hands in front of your heart, like you’re hot, or three pulses to signify fast pumping? I don’t know. Nothing seems to replace touch. I watch TV to pass the time, hunkering down at home, feeling envy at the touching happening on every show I watch. All filmed before this terrible time, there is no social distancing there, no awkward refraining from touch, no isolation. People work together on a yacht, people play together on a yacht, friends sit on couches, together, enemies sit on couches, together, and on and on.
With technology so big a part of our lives, our face to face and in person interactions have become less frequent, anyway. We’ve needed more together time, more connection, more touch and now, this.
All of us touched by this pandemic. Some of us more than others. Some dead, some dying, some unsure how real this is, or how real it’s going to get, continuing to avoid touch to avoid infection, some just hit and waiting to see what it feels like to be hit. No one in my immediate sphere has yet been hit, or at least no one knows it, yet.
That is when the lack of touch will become even more painful. I will want to reach out and hold them, hug them, kiss them. If it’s me, I will want them to hold me, hug me, kiss me. Instead, we will practice social distancing and hope we all live through this and can someday look back on it with the knowledge that we did.
There’s a question about whether we’ll ever behave the same way, again. Will shaking hands, hugging and kissing become a thing that we reserve only for our intimate partners? Maybe shaking hands, which let’s face it always seemed a bad idea in flu season. But a hug? I’m not giving that up. I know for now, the safest protocol is to stay away from each other, yes, six feet or more, but I know I can’t live like this, forever.
When we make it through this, I think I’m going to forego the handshake for the hug. Because this restriction on touch has made me want to wrap my arms around every single person I’ve ever met and have yet to meet. This barrier to touching has made me understand how vital touch is, how crucial, how critical. Who wants to be afraid of their own hands and what might be on them even after scrubbing them down?
As I sit here on the eve of shelter in place, I’m still not sure about the thing that we can replace touch with in greeting one another. The truth is I don’t think it can ever be replaced, nor should it, ever. It would still be nice to come up with some non-verbal sign that felt more like touch than the awkward feeling of intentionally staying away from each other.
I’m looking toward when all of this is behind us because it’s too hard when I look at this and wonder if it will never end.
So, when all of this is behind us, I’m planning on bringing the hug back full throttle. There are so many things we’re going to miss when we get to the end of this, but I’m so excited about when we get to hug, again. To touch, to hold hands, to stand and sit close, to be together. In the meantime, I’m washing my hands, thoroughly, with warm, soapy water, drying them, moisturizing them and opening them up to each side of me and just above my heart, reaching out to you with outstretched arms till I can almost feel you in mine.