I went to a dermatologist this week. My last appointment was in March of 2020, and I did not keep it. Things like skin seemed suddenly inconsequential. 

 

The office still requires masks, and my wait was twice as long as the actual time with a doctor. I did not mind, and enjoyed watching the efficiency of the receptionists as they checked in a stream of people who also wanted their moles checked. Two men sat near each other, and one spoke. 

 

"Hi, Mark. It's me, Dan."

 

Mark seemed caught off guard, but in a moment recognized the eyebrows enough to remember an old friend. They chatted about what they had been up to, oblivious to the standard of anonymity that usually prevails in such environments. Then a woman whom I assume was Mark's wife entered the waiting room and he called to her. 

 

"Guess who I found!" Which she could not either. 

 

There was a shift in their voices from the ones they used checking in while reciting insurance details. Dan and Mark and Mrs, Mark were glad to connect with a buddy, even across the barrier of a mask. 

 

It has been a global disconnect to miss the expressive faces of people around us. In those places where we can once again grin with abandon I cherish it all the more. 

 

When we leave behind these ill fitting bodies, and step into a world that makes hypocrisy inconsequential, we will find ourselves among friends that are both old and new. In that day, we will forget that we waited at all.