The Blog of mamapolo

It's a warm feeling to return to a familiar place after an extended absence. People you might pass day after day and exchange no more than a nod and a smile stop you to inquire specifically about your well-being, and about your husband's status.

Folks you enjoy, but had little time to even think about during the madness of the past (at least briefly) crisis, now remind you why you like them so well.

My cubicle-mate is a young man just a little older than half my age, and he is smart and funny and witty in a sheepish, self-deprecating way. He is one of those people who is funny just by being himself. One of the emails in my in-box was from him. Loosely translated, it said, "I want to talk to you, but you're not here, so I'll just write to this empty in-box."

I've gotten a good many hugs in the past forty-eight hours. Hugging is not something professional folks do a lot, and it feels even more friendly and intimate because of that.

It is curious, though, how after this past grueling nine weeks, just sitting in a chair at a desk can be so exhausting. I feel, as my husband says, "like I've been dragged through a knothole."