The Fear of Being Near

“The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” 

— Franklin D. Roosevelt

When Rafael and I got married 35 years ago, we rented a small one bedroom apartment near FIU. We were still going to college, and we lived on a tight budget. Our routine included cleaning our apartment once a week. We used to split up our duties. Rafe had bathroom duty and vacuum cleaner, while I would clean the kitchen and dusted the furniture.

When I got pregnant four years later, and was put on bed rest for a couple of months, we hired a cleaning lady for the first time. And then we kept her... forever. Cleaning the house was a duty that I definitely didn’t miss. If I had to cut anything out of our budget, I would rather cut out the beauty salon than my cleaning lady.

When the quarantine started two months ago, we had to add cleaning to our routine. Honestly, our home has never been this clean. As much as I love my cleaning lady, I’ve discovered corners that had never been dusted. However, I am so exhausted, that I can’t wait for those corners to get filled with dust again. It was definitely a lot easier to clean when I was twenty years old than it is now. I have pain in muscles that I didn’t even know I had. I am so looking forward to being able to bring back my cleaning lady. But for now, the fear of being near is keeping her away.

Every morning, we go for a walk around the golf course. Just two months ago, whenever we crossed paths with someone, we said good morning, and continued on our merry way. Now, when we see someone coming, we leave the sidewalk and start walking on the street. If someone is coming on the street, we return to the sidewalk. We now wave them good morning from afar. Our morning walks have become a zigzag from sidewalk to street and back again. “Zigzag, zigzag, everybody, everywhere. Zigzag, zigzag, everybody do your share.” I sing and I zigzag as I walk, all because of the fear of being near.

Our building elevators are limited to four persons, but most people feel that even two persons is too much. If I’m inside the elevator on my way down, and the elevator stops on another floor, most people won’t get in because of the fear of being near. The first time that it happened, I felt so unloved. But now I do it too because I have also been overcome by the fear of being near.

When we go to the grocery store, we must wait outside in a line, and we must stand at least six feet apart from the person in front of us. Only a limited number of persons are allowed to go in. And once inside, the aisles are one way. God forbid we cross another person on the same aisle. We must maintain our distance because of the fear of being near.

In Cuba, going to mass had to be done in hiding. I never expected that I would not be allowed to attend mass in Miami, but for the past two months, the churches have been closed... yes, you guessed it, the fear of being near. Luckily for us, as opposed to the last pandemic one hundred years ago, we now have technology, therefore, we can now attend mass from our own living rooms. The fear of being near cannot keep us from being near our Lord. 

All this social isolation has made us afraid to be too close to others. Everyone we see could potentially be infected. Even our own family members must stay six feet apart. Rafael has been cooking on Sundays, and then we go to deliver the food to our kids and to my mom. But we don’t even get off the car. We open the trunk, and the kids pick up the food themselves. This past Sunday, for Mother’s Day, we did a caravan for my mom. My kids went too, but everyone in their own cars. Then, we had a virtual brunch. It’s been eight weeks since the last time I gave a hug or a kiss to my own kids or to my mom. If someone had told me three months ago that I was going to be afraid of being near my own family, I would have laughed in their face. But now being near my mother could mean that I could infect her. Hugging my daughter may put her at risk. Kissing my son may get him sick. Or it could be the other way around. It could be me the one that catches the virus. And we are all so terrified, that we have become infected with the fear of being near.

Next week, we were supposed to travel to Germany and Austria. The flight has been cancelled. The hotels and restaurants are closed. The tickets that we had for a concert in Salzburg were refunded because the concert won’t be taking place. Today, I was picking up the room that I have been using as my office, and I found the “Germany” travel book. I put it away, not knowing when we will be able to go on that trip. We are afraid to be confined inside a plane because of the fear of being near.

I cannot wait to see my apartment dirty once again. It will mean that the quarantine has come to an end. It will mean that my kids will be able to visit. It will mean that we can have friends and family over for a meal. It will mean that we can go out and bring the dirt from outside without fear that it’s contaminated. We won’t have to clean the soles of our shoes with Lysol wipies. The churches, restaurants and stores will reopen. But most importantly, we will be able to hug and cuddle. We will be able to spread the love and the dirt in equal measurements. The fear of being near will be over.

Copyright © 2020 Christy Romero. All rights reserved.