The CDC came out with guidance that encouraged US residents to practice social distancing: to not go out in groups of more than ten, limit touching, and to try to keep a distance of six feet between people.
People who love me will tell you that I have been practicing social distancing for years. Part of it is that I’m socially awkward. People make me nervous. Before there was Insecure, there was Awkward Black Girl. You couldn’t tell me that the show wasn’t about me. There is nothing cool, calm, or collected about Gabrielle Radford. I fall over almost everything. I can choke on anything, or even nothing at all. I’m overall just a weirdo.
Nowhere is this more evident than at church. I try really hard to sit in pews by myself. I don’t like people looking at me, and I don’t like people touching me. Nothing grates my nerves more than a preacher saying “Turn to your neighbor. Shake your neighbors hand and say…” Not only will I not do that, but I will stare a hole into your soul until you cheerfully turn to the other neighbor. During meet and greets and fellowship time, you will find me in the vestibule talking to either Jesus or myself. If I need to talk to the rest of the saints, I will kindly send an email.
No hugging, kissing, or shaking hands. Try to keep six feet of distance… I’ll do you one better. I’m just not going to come, and y’all can tell me about it later.
But this Coronavirus has even stretched me to the limits. I have had to cancel brunch plans, reschedule a long overdue visit, and I’m seriously running low on my hand sanitizer. The worst part of this new policy is that I haven’t gotten to see my mother in a week. I’ve talked to her everyday, and on most days I’ve talked to her a couple of times. No matter how awkward I am, mom always tells me that it’s going to be okay, that I am going to be okay. She always says “And this, too, shall pass.”
She’s right. Even from a distance.
Love Mama Radford