Day sixty-five of confinement.
You get up, ready to take part in your work responsibilities from home but something has changed. You feel something inside you, unknown, you can’t name it, but you feel different. You’ve tried to keep yourself busy, but today reality suddenly dawns on you. You feel like crying, screaming, kicking. The confusion of what you're feeling is so big because you're not sure what it is. It seems like a mixture of fear, anger and sadness; fear because sixty-five days have gone by and up to this point, you thought that everything would return to normal. Normal, what a funny word these times, you don’t really see the shadow of it. Anger at the authorities and their ridiculous way of handling the situation, and sadness for everything you have lost: family gatherings, those where all the uncles and cousins are gathered, hugging, eating and drinking all kinds of things, and talking at the same time of everything they’re passionate about; and your friends; that family that we choose, with whom we can stay up until five in the morning talking about everything; discussing life. Anyway, missing your support system.
So many emotions piled up, so many days that have passed, so many spoiled plans ... and things doesn’t seem to improve soon.
It has been allowed to go out by the last ID’s number but to be safe you decide not to; after all ... this has to get better. However, this desperate emotional state leads you to think that no, that if this hasn't improved in sixty-five days what makes you think that it will do so in two or three, less in a country like ours where our health minister is a teacher.
Day seventy-one arrives and it’s your day. You have to get out, you need to get out. You shower and groom in seconds. You suspiciously try on your jeans for the first time in all this period because you have not specifically cared for your diet during this quarantine. You celebrate when you realize that they fit, you put on some perfume and you finish getting ready, excited because you return to the world, to connect with others. You go out and drive, cautiously since it's your first outing in over two months. You celebrate again when the car starts and runs smoothly. You apply all the biosecurity measures, you run errands and you're glad when you can't find something in a store because that gives you an excuse to visit another. You meet friends, acquaintances and people whom you're very fond of. Everything seems magical ... until you realize you can't hug them, or even touch them. At that moment you become aware that you’re both wearing masks that prevent you from seeing each other's smile. This is where reality dawns on you again, realizing that things will not return to the way they were before. Nostalgia invades you for all that we once took for granted: the smile of a stranger, the hugs of our family and friends, and the handshake of someone you just met or addressed to. That is all gone.
However, going out has done you good, because thanks to our human nature we still connect with others even through social distancing, masks, and screens; but you return home to reflect on this new reality that awaits us: the post-COVID-19 social interaction.
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