It was one of those unpleasant, if not awkward, moments. At a social gathering last week, I was being introduced to a well-dressed gentleman and I immediately stretched out my open right hand preparing for a handshake in return. There was an unexpected “pregnant pause.” Then the gentleman, obviously as uncomfortable as he had made me, lifted his right-hand high offering me a slight wave.
COVID, I suppose, had struck again. For however long we’ve all been held captive by this elusive and invisible pandemic, much of what we took for granted has been challenged. With signs everywhere imploring us to keep a social (although that word seems so ironic) distance of six feet or more, the idea of touching feels like a criminal act and is something I just can’t seem to wrap my head around.