The CDC just recommended allowing fully vaccinated people to go without masks in most places.

I’m remembering the first time that I heard about the NYS mask mandate, in the spring of 2020. I think I was sitting in the living room of my parents’ house, one evening, after work… or maybe we were at the dinner table, talking.

Remember back then? We kept checking the case numbers, every day, watching the increase, watching the spread.

I remember feeling as though this was all very real and strange and terrifying and new. Going out into a world full of people wearing masks felt like stepping into a science fiction story, or a nightmare. Now it’s the opposite. Now when I think about going out into the world without half of my face covered, it seems odd.

In the last year I’ve gotten to know people – teachers and classmates – without ever knowing what their noses were shaped like.

I also had a new way to tell whether or not a stranger in a crowded room cared about other people, or liked being told what to do. I’ll miss that simple test of a person’s character.

When one half their faces were covered, I was forced to look into people’s eyes in order to read their expressions. I also had to speak up a little more loudly so that I could be heard through the fabric covering my mouth. Never used to speak up, much, before. Never used to look people in the face unless I knew them. I wonder if I will gaze more calmly into people’s faces, if I’ll continue to speak like I want to be heard.

I’ve been waiting so long for this small piece of news. I’d recently started to look forward to it, to wonder when it was going to come.

But now that it’s here… what if it’s too soon? I’m having a hard time believing that things will ever go back to normal, at all.

This pandemic took so much away from me. It could have been so much worse, and I know this. But I still feel like so much is missing that should have been here.

In his parting video lecture for the semester, my astronomy professor told us that he hated teaching like this, from behind a screen, without ever meeting one of us. Because he missed the people that he’ll never get to meet, the classroom full of students, the banter, the questions, the “how was your day” and the “have a good weekend.” It’s the little things, but the little things matter. He didn’t cry, as he was speaking, but I could tell that he would after the camera was switched off. So, I feel like – if I’d ever gotten a chance to meet him, we probably would have been friends.

And maybe after all of this is over I will find his office, somewhere on this campus. And I’ll peek around the door, with my face without a mask, and I’ll say “hi. You never met me, but I was your student. You taught me so much about the galaxies and the stars and the universe, and it was very beautiful. And I just wanted to say thanks.”

I don’t know how many friends I didn’t meet because things turned out this way.

Fuck, it’s been a difficult year.

I hope you’re alright. I love you. We’re going to get through this.

Take good care.