Stripping Away

 What will we do when we can all throw our masks away? 

Will we all throw our masks away? I confess that I have become very used to the ritual of stretching that band of cloth across my face, tugging on one ear and then the other. I have developed a number of different mannerisms designed to affect mask slippage. I have become accustomed to a certain amount of steam on my glasses at different points throughout the day. When I step outside onto my front porch, if I can feel a breeze on my chin a wave of self-consciousness sweeps over me: I have forgotten something. It is a feeling not unlike patting your pocket, expecting to feel and hear the jingle of your keys and coming up with nothing but a slap on the thigh. 

A jolt to the system, to be sure. A habit that was hard to install, but will be difficult to break. Now that I have become completely used to the idea that I am saving lives by wearing a mask. I have also enjoyed the almost complete lack of a "flu season" over the past year. This is due in part to the flu shot I got way in advance of my COVID vaccine, and the overall lack of contact with the clouds of bacteria I might otherwise have encountered while pursuing your average scholastic campaign at an elementary school. But I have also been wearing a mask in most, if not all, social interactions. 

I can relax in the knowledge that all of my COVID tests have come back negative, and I have lived through both of my injections and their side effects. I am certain that there are still plenty of things out there that will kill me, but I have escaped this round of plague and made my largest effort to keep those around me from catching the germs that I might be spreading. This extends to my exercise regimen, where I continue to wear a mask while running even though those passing by are not always like-minded. 

What did I do during the great plague of 2020? I wore a mask. I stayed home. I kept my distance. It wasn't that hard. As a matter of fact, I kind of relaxed into the idea that some of these changes might become permanent. Not to go so far as to decline handshakes and hugs from those who might want to share their oxytocin, but having a few extra feet in which to operate safely seems like a boon at this juncture. 

I also maintained a series of smirks and grimaces behind that strip of cloth that I didn't have to share with anyone.