Texts During The Pandemic: One Year In

Can you believe it's been a year?

woman texting while drinking coffee

"Do you ever just sit in front of the fridge, with cleaning stuff all around you, staring at something that looks like pickle juice, pooling on the bottom shelf,  thinking, "If I just leave it there, maybe it will go away?" and then close the door, leave the cleaning stuff there and go eat chips, or is it just me?" 

"Is Dennys open? Like, open-open? We can go IN, and STAY in? Holy crap. Start the car!" 

"Um....ok, so here's the thing: even though we CAN go to Denny's, I am having anxiety about going to Denny's. Who even AM I?" 

"So, masks? I love them. Like, for real. I wanna wear them forever. They're like armor, for my face. Or rather, my feelings, which show on my face. Should this concern me?" 

"Hockey is back! Games! With refs and everything. Boys are happy. I am...I forget how to hockey. Are we allowed to cheer, or not? Coffee? Can we bring coffee?" 

"Honey, listen to me: this sucks. All of it, for everyone. You're allowed to be tired of it. You're allowed to feel frustrated and mad and done. Susie Effing Sunshine can stuff it. You do you." 

"I cannot believe it has been almost a year. Crazy, right? Those first two weeks were amazing. The last 50, not so much. And I feel like I will never wear dress pants again." 

"Or not-dress pants. Pants are dead to me." 

"So...do we just, like...wait for the locusts, or...?" 

"We're green, here. I don't think you can come here unless you're green, or orange. Red is bad. Red cannot visit. You're grey? Yeah, no. I feel like you can't go anywhere, or do anything. We probably shouldn't even be texting, right now..." 

"That piece that's circulating, about how we're all tired and have no more words left? It feels like a benediction. Like she just put her hand on our collective heads, and said, "Shhhh, child. Now is the time for quiet." 

"If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would you go? Me? My parents' house." 

"Lined plaid leggings. On ME. Don't look as awesome as planned, but I don't even care. They FEEL amazing! I am warm, for the first time since, oh, October?" 

"What are our feelings about tiny homes? What if we got a whole band of tiny homes, and circled them like wagons and just raised the children as our own cohort?" 


"I'm sorry for the person I was last week. Pre-menopause PMS makes me crazier than normal. I'm gonna apologize for this week, too, and next week, in advance. I plan to be moody and difficult because that's who I think I am, this year." 

"I love you, from here. That's all I've got. I'm too tired to tell you why I miss you, ok?" 

P.S. Still kinda bummed about the aliens not arriving. I mean, they'd have to quarantine and all, but still...


You'll also want to read: 

Texts During the Pandemic: This Is How We Communicate Now

Texts During the Pandemic: Part II


Liz is 46, and isn't sure how that happened, exactly. She is raising two amazing humans, and isn't entirely sure about that, either, but is mostly loving it. And them. And coffee