Newly vaccinated (all but the children) we visited our son and his beautiful family three hours north of us. It’d been a long year since we’d stayed overnight at their house; five months since we met masked and distanced at a midpoint town in Connecticut on a blustery day in the fall.
Our son and daughter-in-law Kelly insisted we sleep in their bedroom—walls, lamps, bedding, bathroom, everything scoured—instead of our usual, the Full bed in one of the girl’s bedrooms. Kelly made her specialty granola with hazelnuts, coconut, and fresh ginger that my husband loves.
We were together 26 hours (minus sleep), sin mascarillas,* picked up some meals at foodie places in Providence, ate together at home. No rushing off to birthday parties or friends knocking at the door. We played games, talked. A family of six, just us, face to face again. It was odd, and new—and cautious.
Wanting to touch the grandkids, not sure of a good first move. Noticing a slight reluctance, respecting that.
Pinching your granddaughter’s socks with monkey faces on the toes. Walking the new pup in nearby fields by the water dam, the pup leading, my son’s low voice always full of kindness.
Indoors the pup barks when he sees or smells us. We’re interlopers. New to his family, strangers.
Being masked in the world is more difficult than we may realize. Our facial expressions are blocked, our smiles hidden. We are deprived of something essential and very human. It’s nuanced and hard to describe. Do ya feel me?
Spanish Words of the Day:
*SIN MASCARILLA – maskless
CON MASCARILLA – wearing a mask
LA CARA – the face
LA PIEL– skin
LA SONRISA– the smile
LA MIRADA – the gaze