Quarantine
Dear Fellow Commuters, I Miss You?
How have you been?
I can’t believe this, but I think I’ve missed you, my fellow commuters.
I was so used to starting and ending my day with you all. Sure, a few of you were occasionally annoying. Some of you slowed us down just as the train pulled in, unearthing your Charlie cards deep in your belongings just as you got to the turnstile. Some of you splayed across a seat, or banged me with your backpack, as we all huddled around the same metal post seeking stable footing. But most of you were just going along, minding your business, courteously getting where you had to be.
I rarely exchanged words with any of you, but I started to recognize a number of you.
Some of you were stylish, and I appreciated the morning fashion show you provided, as we made our way along the same grubby stairs and sat on the same stained seats. There were those of you who didn’t use ear buds, and blared your music, serving as the defacto DJ of our rides. A few of you absolutely loved your speaker phone option, so I involuntarily learned things about your lives as you yelled your conversations, enlightening others about what you were eating for dinner. Some of you intently read books, your eyes never lifting from the page. Several of you fervently, wordlessly, typed away on precariously balanced laptops, seemingly oblivious to all the humanity jammed around you.
Other mornings I wasn’t with my fellow riders, but on the roads with my fellow drivers. And improbably, I started to recognize some of you, too; or rather, your bumper stickers. Many of you chose to declare your beliefs and accomplishments on your car, which would be my view for far too many minutes. I eventually became vaguely aware of your kids’ academic achievements and what sports they played. I sometimes silently endorsed your preferred candidates, or noted that we agreed on the same political issues. Some of you liked really obscure things enough to declare it on your vehicles, so piquing my interest that I considered googling it, not while driving, of course. I never imagined there would be a time I wouldn’t slowly roll behind, and alongside you, predictably converging into the same lanes, at around the same time. We were collectively able to see the city skyline, but seemingly never getting any closer to it. I’ve felt that way about the end of the quarantine some days, too.
The circumstances that took me away from my daily travels, also have me concerned for the people I saw more often than friends, but never knew. When I took the bus, I was one of the first to board. And as it lurched through its stops, most people would get on, and nod and smile. I wonder about those whom I saw those mornings and afternoons. I worry about the people who regularly sought to start conversations, but were often met with terse replies or polite but quick nods. Some of these riders, who told me they took the bus to keep warm, or to keep cool, or to keep busy, relied on the trip for more than just a way home.
I wonder, too, about the small group who would sit adjacent to each other in scrubs, talking over the noisy engine, about their mutual employment at a hospital. I have no idea where they actually worked. But I hope they are all healthy, as they have likely faced things I can’t imagine.
My fellow bus riders, T passengers, and traffic-trapped drivers: I hope you’ve all stayed well. Although you grew familiar, we remained unacquainted. I know many of you are still making the trip, or have started to again. I wish we could all work from home right now. If and when we cross paths on the roads or on the T again, I’m not sure you will notice. But, I’ll be happy to see your faintly familiar face. I’ll even be happy to see you again, speaker phone yeller. I could use some new dinner ideas.
