Just Hold Me

A haiku with commentary

Sometimes I worry
I’ll be forever yearning
To be held again.

I miss touch. Anyone else?

And yet here we are almost two years later, and I have somehow survived.

Thankfully I do have two school-aged children who still like to snuggle their mom, but it isn’t the same as having two arms wrapped tightly around me, reassuring me as I do myself each and every damn day, that it’s going to be ok. It isn’t the same as having a big hand take mine into it, caressing it to let me know it’s got me, and sealing the moment with a kiss. It isn’t the same as having a chest to nestle my head into when I need to feel that extra sense of safety, as I have offered myself each and every day for the past 19 months.

It isn’t the same. And I miss it all more than ever, in this strange and isolating pandemic world.

The thought of having foreign arms wrapped around me or even anywhere within six feet of me was a non-issue. I didn’t miss touch when I was afraid of it. But now, as I am triple vaxed, relaxing, and starved for human touch that goes beyond my children’s sweet little hands, I am hungry for it.

As the pandemic continues to mutate and rage and only 56% of people in my fully-open city are fully vaccinated, I continue to straddle some fine line between covid-conscious and covid-terrified — depending on the day. And I worry: how will I ever meet someone again in such a timid world where formerly social and outgoing people like me are now afraid of people?

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