Prior to the pandemic, Sarah and I would eat at Francesco’s every Wednesday night after our aqua-aerobics class at the Y. It had become a ritual. The manager lived in Astoria and I’d occasionally bump into him and his son in the neighborhood.
I became friendly with Nina, the waitress, and the men who worked behind the counter. When I’d walk in Bennie, the pizza guy, would shout out, “Hey Susan, do you want spinach on your slice?”
Saturday night as Nick and I entered the pizzeria for the first time since March 2020, we were greeted by Nina, Bennie and the others. I was happy to see everyone. Then it hit me. These were not friends, but the everyday people who had made up the fabric of my life.
That night I cried as I realized how the fabric of my life had been torn by the Pandemic. I felt the pain from the tear, and also the possibility of being woven back together.
