I participated in my first virtual happy hour yesterday. There were nine of us lined up gallery style like the Brady Bunch: one in Spain, one in Texas, and the rest of us here in our neighborhood in Arlington. I was curious about how it would feel. Would it be awkward because people would try to talk all at once? Would some people not get a word in? When you get together with eight other people, you don’t just have one conversation the whole time. It actually went very smoothly and lifted us up. Our conversation rolled through peaks and valleys as we laughed at each other’s anecdotes and poked gentle fun at one another’s coping methods, shared tips about ordering groceries and keeping our families occupied, and empathized with each other’s darker worries about aging parents and friends with health issues.
As each day passes, I see more evidence that we need each other, and not just our families. Our lives don’t feel right when someone is missing. I need these women in my life, I need my friends and colleagues at work, and I need my students. Each time we reach out to one another and make a connection, the world seems more hopeful.
