Until The Twelfth Of Never

When you're a kid, everything feels like forever. Waiting for your mom to finish talking to the neighbor so you can ask her about the popsicles you are pretty sure you saw her put int he freezer. Forever. Standing in line for Space Mountain. Forever. All the way back last summer. Forever. And this doesn't just apply to little kids. The time it takes for your date to be ready while you wait downstairs with her mother. Forever. The interval between phone calls from your best friend. Forever.
While I was out for a run the other day, I realized that my feelings about forever have changed since we went into quarantine. Back in March. So much continues to happen out there, and so very little occurs inside our little bubble. The hour or so that I spend exercising each day is a finite period, but some days it feels like it could go on and on. Finding activities to break up the day is a challenge most often represented by trying to figure out what we will have for dinner.
I wondered how teenage romance was faring through all of this. I can remember celebrating week and month anniversaries. Precious and few are the moments we two can share, indeed. That yearning for another person when they aren't there. The heartache and the thoughts that fill your head: What are they doing now? I wonder if they're thinking about me? I wonder when I will see them again? I wonder if they will forget about me? The voices of insecurity.
Go ahead and toss the burning tractor tire of the coronavirs on top of that and I imagine you've got some idea of how things might be going down. Sure, you could Facetime or Zoom the object of your affections, but long distance remains only the next best thing to being there. Are there boys and girls sneaking out of their shelter in place to canoodle with one another? Or just to gaze at one another adoringly without the box around them?
I consider myself very fortunate to have a happy marriage within the limits of normal as we plunge headlong through this voyage to forever. In sickness and health, and all that. We continue to find ways to connect and give each other space, as necessary. We have that sort of freedom. Having a wife in my social bubble turns out to be a pretty good thing. Sure, we fuss at one another from time to time about what we are going to watch on Netflix, or what the proper number of nights to have frozen pizza might be, but we are not negotiating those first shaky steps of a baby relationship. I know that online dating is now more than ever a thing, but it won't alleviate the inner turmoil brought on by the navigation of those initial months.
Besides, I'm a grownup now. If I want popsicles, I'll put on my mask, wait in line, buy them, bring them home and disinfect them and then put them back in the freezer to wait until they are frozen again. Tom Petty was right. It's the waiting.