There was that one morning in January, or maybe it was February, when we awoke to a light covering of snow. The birds were silent, the trees were still. It was one of those days when you could stare out the window forever. But by noon it had all melted away.

Now it’s mid-March and the winter we’d all hoped for has landed upon us. Not by way of precipitation, but rather by viral infection. The world is on lock-down from Covid-19. It spreads, we’re told, through contact. So we’re practicing a new term, a new way, called “social-distancing.” To my kids all that means is that they are no longer allowed to have social lives. Forget the fact that this generation is more connected via Snapchat “Stories” and “Insta” (gram) than any other population before them. It’s not *just* that they want to be on their phones all of the time, it’s that they want to be connected digitally and be sitting next to one another, too.

We’re all trying to adapt.

Today I saw my neighbor outside as I put out the recycle bin just in time for the collectors. I lifted my hand to wave and I’d swear a red flag came across her face, “I see you. For God’s sake, don’t come any closer.” We were easily 30 feet apart. Is all of this really real?

My kids told me the other day that the Disney movie “Tangled,” a re-telling of the classic Rapunzel story, you know the one, where the mean old mother forces her daughter to stay in the tallest tower, away from everyone, in order to keep her safe was actually set in a village called, “Corona.” Coincidence? Of course. Yes. Maybe not?

I keep thinking about how in the 1970s, you could pull up to a traffic light and the car in the lane next to you would be blaring the same top 40 songs from the same radio station. In my case, WPGC. The music ran the gamut from Earth, Wind and Fire, to Kenny Rogers, to Paul McCartney, to Julio Iglesias, to Anne Murray, for Chrissakes. We didn’t know from identity politics, or genres like “Rap” and “Country” and how profoundly listening to audience-targeted music and news would divide us.

And now we’re living through physical separation, as well as political, as well as personal. What will this look like when we reach the other side, if there is indeed another side?

My dad is 88. My mom, 80. Both have compromised immune systems. He’s a diabetic. She has COPD. Neither one is listening to the news, staying out of the grocery store, keeping 6’ apart. They don’t care about catching this virus. They are tired, I think, of the way things have become. Divisive, argumentative. Even my own family can’t have a holiday meal without treading across someone’s feelings. Last week, my sister was appalled when she learned that I suffer from migraine headaches. She didn’t care that I get them, or how I manage. She was pissed off that she didn’t know this about me. It was about her.

We’ve all personalized our iTunes playlists, tuned into news geared to our fears, modified our home screens with the apps that only we use, recorded TV shows, so that we could watch later, alone, the shows that we prefer, rather than sitting down to watch whatever was on, together. We’ve become narcissists. 

Now, Covid winter is upon us.

During this season will we learn? Reflect? Emerge from this yearning for deeper connection? More prayer? More serenity versus separation? I am washing my hands, appreciating the water, warm from the faucet, and the soap that will make my skin clean. I hope our hearts will be, too.  

[Title used without permission by Simon & Garfunkel]