I don’t know about you but I’m not sure that I want to be a part of this global pandemic thingy anymore.

Okay, I know I don’t really have an option. But after nearly six months of this, some serious FOMO is starting to set in. Even though some of the things I’m missing aren’t even there anymore. Like outdoor festivals (which I usually don’t go to) or sports (which I usually don’t watch). So it’s not so much FOMO as just MO.

Plus, I’m starting to miss weird things.

Like the ridiculous amounts of Back-To-School fliers that inundated my recycle box in all the previous years that didn’t begin with the numbers 202… Or the over-zealous same TV commercials that showed off tiny children wearing clothing way more fashionable than mine. Instead, there’s just Apple and Amazon commercials telling me that It’s going to be okay. (Because they’re the two companies making the most moneys right now. So I guess it’s nice of them to share…sentiment?)

I also find I’m missing crowds. Normally I can do without shouldering my way through people in shopping malls. But a visit to West Edmonton Mall this week was just eerie. I mean, WHERE DID ALL THE PEOPLE GO? Answer: At home on their iPhones placing another Amazon order.

I’m also missing playing chicken on the sidewalks. I mean, in a normal non-COVID season, one would walk towards someone on the sidewalk and play that little psychological game with them of “You-move-I’m-not-moving.” You might even (gasp!) TOUCH THEM as you swerve by. But now oncomers move differentially to each other, creating cow-paths on peoples’ lawns and preferring oncoming traffic to touching an actual human being with a six-foot pole. It makes me want reflexively check my deodorant levels, but then I remember – Oh right, it’s just an epidemic.

A solution, perhaps, would be to embrace JOMO – the joy of missing out. I mean, there is a certain simplicity in less: less people, less (physical) shopping, less decisions – because they’re just not there to make. But I feel like I’m completely glossing over all the really-real problems. After all, not-shopping is not technically a hardship, at least not-shopping for new clothes and school supplies at the malls when most of last year’s will do just fine.

Maybe there were aspects of the world as we knew it that weren’t particularly healthy – I mean, if people aren’t at the malls and in the restaurants and swerving on the sidewalks, that’s not really essential anyway, is it? But as I miss things as they were, I need to ask myself what exactly am I struggling with?

I am struggling with change. I kind of liked the world – with all its craziness – just the way it was. I’m sad for businesses and sports and churches that have had to shut down and are figuring out how to survive – or realizing they can’t.

I am struggling with uncertainty. I was told this week that THIS might last for two, maybe even three years. I don’t even want to say that out loud, but there it is. Buckle up and settle in – COVID appears to be the new tenant in the building previously occupied by HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, EMPLOYED and UNPHASED-BY-COMMON-COLD-SYMPTOMS. And we don’t know how long of a lease Mr. Epidemic took out.

And I’m struggling with plain old selfishness. I want things to be the way they used to be. I want to not wear a mask, not worry about visiting people outside of my bubble and not give a second thought to touching them. I want to travel again and not shake my head at Americans (over this). I also want kids to go to school and for teachers not to have to worry about disinfecting every surface, every second of every day. I want health-care workers to be able to relax a little and for people who are immunocompromised not consider everything a life-threatening decision.

Maybe it’s not even about shopping, not even a little bit. Maybe I want my party not just with cake, but with people, too, the way it used to be. I’m not sure I even want to think about Christmas and how different that will be.

But maybe realizing what I miss is actually making me more thankful for what was, what is. And let’s hope, for what will someday be, even if it looks a little different.