For physically affectionate people, six-feet of distance can feel like a mile. I liken the experience to communicating in a second language. When I speak Greek –– my vocabulary is that of a nine-year-old-child –– I’m a paler version of myself. Humour and sentiment are much harder to express. Take hugs, kisses and all other physical gestures away and I feel equally limited. A gentle squeeze, a soft hand to the shoulder is what we do to convey support, love and gratitude in a way that words often can’t. It’s a super power that we’re without right now. So we hug the ones we can, often and with gusto, and send notes and plants and cake to the ones we can’t. A smile goes a really long way, and I’ve taken to waving at people with ridiculous vigor. Sometimes, I even clap my hands like an enthused toddler. Anything to make a connection, to express affection.
