New windows are installed in my kitchen.
Replacing thirty-six year old aluminum framed windows, these new ones completely remove the draftiness and chill that has blustered around our eating booth for three decades of winters. Pretty white vinyl windows, nothing fancy, but the effect is dramatic.
Besides revolutionizing our kitchen space, the new window installation offers something surprising and most welcome.
In order to receive an energy rebate from our utility provider, an inspector enters my backyard to examine the work.
"My name is Tyler, how do you do?"
Tyler wears no mask. His young, handsome, friendly face is fully visible to me, and mine to him because I, too, am maskless. (Sounds scandalous, doesn't it.)
Our no-mask interaction is different from the mask-wearing one with the installers a week prior. They, too, are young and friendly, but I don't know what they look like. Big dark masks. The barrier makes a difference. Tyler and I, however, see each other's face. We smile.
Once in the backyard, I ask the young man about his attractive brown leather boots because I'm looking for some for my husband. He describes his pleasure with them, the comfort after breaking them in. Without the barrier of our masks we are relaxed, unhurried. It feels delightfully normal.
Yes, we are distancing. He leans out toward me, arm outstretched, to hand me the paperwork for signing. I lean in to take it, lean out to hand it back.
Quick and easy. The rebate will soon be in the mail.
Today my heart is a little lighter. Just five minutes with a mask-less inspector vividly reminds me of life before and after the virus, a life of unclenched connection, natural facial expression, and freedom.
Yes, that's it. It feels like happy freedom.
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