
I miss the places more than the actual people. Or I miss the people in their spaces. Do you think people can become landmarks? Some of my work friends have been laid off (or they’re working from home and I don’t feel right to ask them if this is so). Some of my classmates find solace in our virtual classroom. Some of the spaces converge and house new communities.
Even though my work lunch dates have lapsed, I still dream up my workmate’s laughter, witty jokes, and all the other things an N95 mask muffles. One of my professors opened a chat room where students could share their thoughts. Deep down, I know as people we need each other’s honesty on how we’re doing. However, in this pandemic experience, I am still cautious of how much to let out. I do miss the residual joy. I miss witnessing it.
Since I am an essential worker, I look for a shred of calm on the drive to and from work.
I watch the storybook houses, the dilapidated duplexes, and the grocery outlets blur together. There used to be fuller parking lots. There used to be the slush of school children crossing the street, and the crossing guard waving at all the cars — morning and afternoon. I wait for the quiet salaam.
I miss the anonymity of the Punjabi food market. I would come in, say hello to the clerk, and sweep through the aisles like a feather. I miss the wide swoop of the doors leading into Goodwill, when we didn’t need anything at all. I miss the mouths with straight teeth, missing teeth, or with bright lipstick.
When my family and I start to experience cabin fever, we drive all over – dividing the town like origami. The Lehigh Valley becomes a construction paper box and we are finding the corners that keep us in. Weeks earlier, my parents and I looked out onto it’s aerial space and awaited our chance to discover a place we had not been before.
I whisper a quiet salaam at the places we drive by.
I lay the quiet salaam on my pillow and let it breathe. It swirls around with the blades of my ceiling fan, as I think about the places I cannot visit right now. I miss the places more. Their buildings flanked by trees, with a corral of cars out front, and with me whispering how I want to be there. I want to be there with people I loved, even if I didn’t know their names.










