Awkward affection and realizing how much I rely on human contact

The last time I embraced someone was the first weekend of March.

We had a fun date. When he said goodbye, he kissed me twice and then came back for a third. Had I known it would be the last time I was going to hold him - or as it turned out, anyone - I might have savored the moment a little longer. I might have focused more on the moment rather than the fact that it was time for him to go.

The weekend before, I had spent an especially emotional weekend visiting with family. I cried with my cousins and uncles. I couldn't even tell you how many hugs I doled out. While the weekend was marked by a lot of driving and schedule changes to make everything possible, I'm so grateful we made time for each other when we did.

The value of those moments shifted to the forefront this past week. I've always known I was a touchy-feely person, but I'm not sure I realized how much I need touch in my life. Greetings and goodbyes all include a series of hugs. Seriously. With my family, after you say goodbye the first time, there's always one more thing to say and another story to tell. When you say goodbye, you should usually plan for an extra 10 to 15 minutes. Even my friends were hugged when they'd visit and family was over. Affection is shared with food, conversation and a hug.

But with a global pandemic in place, that doesn't happen.

This past week, I saw my date through a window and exchanged air kisses as we drove off. The same day, I photographed a friend for my Facing Healthcare project that I'd consider family - we talked through masks and stood there awkwardly as we said goodbye. My friend even apologized as we left.

"You know I would hug you, right?"

Physical contact is so ingrained in my behaviors and routines that without it, an apology almost seems necessary.

On Tuesday, I photographed my cousin Nealon, who is graduating high school, and my niece Tiana, who is a pharmacy technician at Walgreens. Both did that slow lean-in and then backed off.

This time, I apologized.

I know everyone knows how much I care, but I still feel bad. I can't help it. It's an automatic reaction to hello and goodbye and all the in-betweens. A grip of the hand during a tense conversation. A swat in response to an inappropriate joke that's made me cackle. A tickle to lighten the tension of a pose while being photographed.

There was none of that. All of my affection is awkward now. Again, I'm not sitting here whining, but that's another thing that I really hope that I don't take for granted once the dust starts to settle with COVID-19. Communicating without contact is something I'm coping with. I guess I never realized how much I need it.