I remember when I heard The Rainbow Connection for the first time. I was about four years old, and it made me cry. Although I’m pretty sure I had no idea what it meant (I barely do now). It was beautiful, hopeful, and made me feel like all people should love one another, no matter what. It never took much for me to feel that way; I was definitely a little hippie-child. But even now – in my old age – I wish that we all just loved one another – at any cost.

Sigh… I guess, like Kermit, I’m just a lover and a dreamer.

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There are so many fears we’ve been forced to endure over the last two years. We’ve lost peace, freedoms, loved ones, financial security, and much more. Of course, you can’t lose all of that without developing a little trepidation and unrest. Personally, I’ve lost all of these. But there is one thing I can’t imagine losing, something I can’t live without – the intimacy of human connection.

As a single woman with no children of my own, the pandemic stole things that I’d always relied upon. First, it took my smile, which was devastating because my smile was my personal disarmament system. It caused unsuspecting victims to drop their guard and begin dismantling their emotional walls. It was a blaring advertisement of my heart’s intention… and it was masked.

Second, it took touch. Again, since I’m single and have no kids, I had no close community to encapsulate me from the outside world; I was the outside world to everyone else. At one point, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d received a hug. A hug! I used to get random hugs just going to Trader Joe’s for coconut milk!

And that’s the third thing it took from me, human connection… I was sitting in a restaurant in Little Italy with my Mathew, whining and pining for the times when people weren’t afraid of random moments of intimacy with strangers. And no, I don’t mean the R.M.O.I. that Tinder offers. But meeting people and allowing ourselves to embrace the instant connection we felt.

I was telling him about all the times I lovingly shared meals and drinks with strangers in restaurants because we were interested in what the other ordered. It wasn’t weird for us to pass our plates and eat from one another’s utensils without a care in the world. Food is love and should be shared. But now, the world was colder and full of fear. I signed with deep sadness and said, “I don’t think things will go back to normal in my lifetime.”

The conversation shifted to happier, sillier talk, as it usually does with he and I. I noticed that the table next to us had ordered frog legs. I mentioned to Mathew that I’d never tried them before. I was going to add that I never wanted to because frogs were just too cute, and my first crush ever was Kermit. But never got the chance because as I was speaking, the man closest to me took his fork and knife, cut off a bit of frog leg, and offered it for me to taste.

At that moment, I totally knew how the Grinch felt when his heart grew three sizes! I had to force back my tears as I took his fork and tried my first bit of cute little delicious frog. Actually, I fought tears for the next ten minutes. I feared that this kind of closeness was lost forever. With all the hate, anger, and confusion plaguing our nation these past five years, it’s been a while since I’ve felt true hope for us. As we dig deeper and deeper into petty disagreements and social embattling, human connection seemed more and more of a distant memory.

But, once again, a little frog gave me hope. Just like one did when I was four years old.

Someday we'll find it
The Rainbow Connection
The lovers, the dreamers and me