I miss, 5/18

I miss community. I miss my friends. I miss small airports, and zig zagging on sidewalks, and hearing languages that mean very little but represent the world. I miss thick, sticky air. I miss unfamiliar doors - the moment when you don’t know whether to pull or push. I miss following arrows in cement-walled airports towards customs, always unsure of how many lines I’ll be placed on, how many lines I’ll wait on.

I miss breathing through my mouth at the grocery store. I miss cooking for more than two.

I miss group runs on Tuesdays, following a line of headlamp lights up the crest of a hill. I miss lacing up my trail shoes, the extra tug of the tongue. I miss finding my edge on my feet. I miss impromptu bike rides to breweries, my thighs turning red-hot in the sun, my butt uncomfortable on the picnic bench.

I miss forgetting the sunscreen. I miss wrapping up a conversation while grazing my bag for the car keys, or the bike lock keys.

I miss Salida, and Yucatan. And Achham, and Hanoi, and even Hell’s Kitchen. I miss the ferry boat to Bainbridge. I miss rocking at sea.

I miss my belongings all fitting into a small room, the mattress inches from the floor.

I miss unexpected pressure from a stranger’s handshake. I miss whether to go for the handshake or hug. I miss IRL, coffee meetings, finding outlets next to window seats, picking up scone crumbs on little plates with my index finger. I miss dish buckets, and plush restaurant check books - the little plastic pocket for the credit card that usually has a broken side. I miss collected pens from banks and booths. I miss offline shopping and putting on real clothes.

I miss the election news. Good news. Any other news. Global news. A stable administration. Medicine that matters. A drained hope for healthcare for all.

Liberty and freedom for all
S’mores with lots of people sharing the sticks
Bringing reusable bags to Whole Foods
Dining in
Employment rates, without the un
Crowded concerts
crowds
hand in hand
forgetting to scrub them
forgetting