We never really grow up. We mature—somewhat—with more education and more responsibilities. But in matters of the heart?  Zip. Nada. Nope. It’s really pathetic because seniors should know better. But something weird happens. Life regains some excitement when you date a new person. Hearts go pitter patter and it’s not  atrial fibrillation. We’re out of control. Suddenly there’s a resurgence of a form of euphoria. Is it hormones? Doubtful. Those dried up a long time ago.

Philip and I were flirty. Like kids. We’d send each other heart emojis and lovey-dovey GIFs, like puzzle pieces that locked together and looked almost sexual.  Who does that? There were tens of texts expressing a desire to meet—to pull off each other’s mask. Scandalous.

Nothing was open in Connecticut because of the pandemic. Parks were closed to the public. Restaurants and bars were, too. There was no public place to meet and get acquainted. One thing we could do, however, was buy groceries—as long as we were masked and distanced.  A plan was devised. We’d meet at Stew Leonard’s in Danbury– half-way  between his home and mine. It was May and still chilly. The entire nation was in quarantine–but Philip and I were hot and heavy. I wore a cute blue-and-rust plaid wool jacket, tight designer jeans and low-heel booties. Makeup was applied carefully—not too much. Nude lipstick. Eyelashes. Ready for action.

It was a Sunday afternoon. A lot of people were shopping at Stew’s from both Connecticut and New York. The parking lot was full. Prior to our meeting, I sewed two matching face masks and mailed one to Philip. It would help me find him. He promised he’d wear it.  I’d know the funky fabric I used when I saw it.  I parked, got out of the car, latex gloved and colorfully masked, and began searching. 

After a few texts, we found each other. My mouth went dry and my armpits got soaked. Nerves got the best of my hands. They shook like I had Parkinsons.  I managed to grab a sanitized shopping cart and proceed into the store—Philip six feet behind me. 

I filled the cart with stuff I didn’t need. As my grandmother would say, I was fakakt.  Finally, I was ready to check out. Philip turned to a display of flowers, grabbed a bunch and said he was buying them for me. Oh…..heart be still.  I was smitten. The cashier got all gushy. We told her this was our first date. 

I wheeled my cart to my car and Philip said he’d go get his car and pull up beside mine. By the time I was finished packing my car with the groceries, he was back. He rolled down his window and I rolled down mine. Slowly, we removed our masks. Such a moment. We laughed. He looked like his photo. I looked like mine. We wanted to kiss. Nope. COVID. Can’t. Probably grounds for arrest. But we knew that this was it—or, at least, I thought so.  I drove home, often gazing sideways at the bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat. My thoughts went to a place I hadn’t visited in a very long time. I smiled all the way home.

A friend once told me, “All that glitters is not gold.”  How true. How very, very true.

© Miriam Greenberg, and the blog Love In The Time Of Corona, beginning April 2022 to the Present. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Greenberg and Love In The Time Of Corona with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.