Our Loss of the Trivial Is No Small Thing

The little things we’re missing during the pandemic add up to a lot

For weeks now, there has been a lot of pretending going on. I have deployed all kinds of pretending exercises to stop the grief I feel I have no right to have — grief for the loss of so many things. Some will come back: museums, sports, sanity. And some won’t: cherished restaurants, canceled milestones, confusion about who or what is essential.

I pretend a bit when I notice the late afternoon light slanting into my apartment, which I never noticed before, and which now seems to announce itself vehemently, radiating a white, blinding blaze. This living room reverse-eclipse happens sometime before the demented White House daily briefing. I pretend that the light burning my eyeballs doesn’t cast an uncanny Midsommar aesthetic across the room, turning my house into a daylight horror set.

The quarantine is now a way of life. It’s an awful way to live; we can agree on that, but there is no alternative. Because — and this is the necessary disclaimer to inoculate against seeming selfish and short-sighted — it’s a matter of life and death. The disclaimer is sincere. I am unequivocal about recognizing the difference between my discomfort, which by virtue of being currently healthy, is luxurious compared to the trauma…