When This is Over, I'll Need a Hug

Ashley Venus Vaello

photo credit: Ashley Venus Vaello: “Empty Street in the Bronx”

I close my eyes and try to breathe. I try to imagine how life was before. Before “pandemic” was a a word understood in every household; before masks and rubber gloves and social distancing. I try to remember the sounds and smells of my neighborhood: the mixed aromas of arroz con habichuelas and marijuana saturating the hallways around 5:00 p.m. Now all I smell is Lysol and bleach. I used to hear music blasting from passing cars and open apartment windows. Salsa competing with hip-hop. Now ambulance sirens drown out the music.

Everything is different now. But still, I try to imagine…

I sit still, long enough to feel the electricity in my foot. It starts off small. It almost feels nice. Then it shoots up my leg until I have to shake it to get rid of the electricity. My hands twitch and sweat. My heart races. Breathing becomes harder. Nausea sets in.

Breathe. Breathe.

Money, family, my physical and mental health, the state of the world…

Breathe. Breathe.

All the things I used to do, all the places I used to go for comfort, are out of reach. I miss bookstores, Broadway shows, overpriced coffee, and hugs.

I miss hugs the most. Embracing my friends and smelling their hair and fragrance. I long for any smell that isn’t a disinfectant.

Breathe. Breathe.

I could use a break from the tossing and turning. A break from the night sweats. A break from the paranoia that everyone I love is going to die, and that I’ll be left all alone.

When this is over, if this is ever over, I want a hug.

 I need a hug.

Ashley Venus Vaello is a native New Yorker, writer, photographer, and filmmaker. She is the writer and producer of the short film, The Woman Who Wasn't There, which is now streaming on Amazon Prime. She lives in The Bronx, New York and is a devoted mom to two dogs, Luna and Rebel. @ItsVenus89