My unpreparedness took me on a grocery run to Walmart this morning. I felt some uneasiness about the outing, mostly I assumed the store would be overflowing with anxious shoppers. I’ll be the first to admit I am not keeping up on the constant daily changes of social distancing and how it’s being enforced in public, so I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.
As I approached the super-center from the highway, I was pleasantly surprised to see a below average amount of cars in the parking lot. All of the store’s doors were shut, locked, and postered with directions to drive down and use only the grocery entrance. As I parked and made my way to the door, I was led to stand in line between two makeshift rows of carts. At my feet, I followed neon duct tape x’s, each spaced 6 feet from the one before and behind it. There were a handful of employees outside directing the shoppers, masks covering their faces, bright orange vests over their layered sweatshirts. As I got to the front of the line, I was met by a shivering woman with an iPad and a repeated greeting: “Okay, come in. We have wipes for the carts if you‘d like them.”
I called my husband once in the store, but immediately felt a lump growing in my throat and hung up the phone. I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to him about what I felt without melting into a puddle on the bread aisle’s floor. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find myself trapped in the middle of a scary movie. All the clichè films about worldwide virus, apocalyptic behavior, the end of the humanity – I was living and breathing inside it.
The more I shopped, the more outrageously aware of my surroundings I became. I felt a wave of guilt come over me if ever I wanted to put multiples of the same item in my cart. I was conscious not to touch something unless it was going home with me. I read signs in every aisle, urging shoppers to be frugal with their choices. I had seen the memes and snaps online, but walking to the paper products aisle literally punched the air from my lungs. Emptiness. The same feeling I was drowning in.
I worked diligently to make eye contact with others, forcing myself to smile, begging for a reciprocated greeting, and received almost nothing in return. The people around me exuded fear, uncertainty, and hurriedness. I saw no children, I heard no laughter. I heard a woman tell her elderly mother to “hold her breath” while walking down a crowded aisle. I watched two friends at a 6-foot distance discuss essential business and grumble over who decides who gets to work. I turned away from an elderly couple wiping tears from their face as they spoke to a fellow shopper.
I waited for some raw act of goodness to restore my faith in the world and it never came. It never came.
Regardless of our political views, our conspiracy theories, our medical knowledge or lack thereof, the way people are reacting and being forced to live is painfully real. While all of our energy goes into staying safe, staying healthy, and staying informed, I am begging us to also stay human. We can face this fear or we can be consumed by it. We can light the way, or we can allow it be extinguished. While I am cautious, I am hopeful our country and world will persevere to burst out the other side of this nightmare.
In a season where unpredictability is all we can count on, we, too, need the confidence of being able to count on each other. Each of us is asked to live through this pandemic fear in the way we see most fit for our families and loved ones. We have an obligation to care for those unable to care for themselves. We have a gratitude for our leaders and providers.
I fervently pray we will tell our children the stories of this time and be able to say with all truthfulness that we survived and we thrived. We leaned on our community, our family and friends, and we refused to allow the guiding light that is humanity, to go out.
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