Why waiting in line is good for us

Finding meaning in our everyday lives

One Friday night last December, I found myself standing in line on Bloor Street in Toronto, outside a local Italian restaurant, waiting for the pizzas I had ordered. I reflected on how normal the scene in front of me had become — a random group of people waiting in line for everything from alcohol, groceries and prescription medication, to freshly-baked croissants and hardware supplies. And for the first time in a long time, I became keenly aware that I did not feel rushed or like I had somewhere else to be — nor did I feel the need to check my phone.

I simply felt grateful for the delicious pizza that was about to come my way.

This got me thinking about how COVID, for all its challenges and assaults on our daily freedoms, has actually been shifting my pace and the way I am experiencing my day-to-day life. Being forced to stay put and slow down has made it easier to engage more of my senses, to be engaged in what’s going on around me — a welcome respite from being in my head all the time.

Standing around outside the pizza place that night, I wasn’t worried about my job, or whether my son was going to get his assignment in on time or whether 2021 would bring the end of mask-wearing. I delighted in the myriad of festive white lights that were decorating the block, how clear the sky looked and the smell of the wood-burning oven that escaped every time the door opened to bring out an order. I was present and content at that moment.

When my friend asked me recently, almost facetiously, what I had been doing for fun lately, it occurred to me that joy now came in smaller, yet still meaningful, packages. Talking with her that day was one of them, as was a hug from my son in the middle of the workday, that first sip of coffee when I get out of bed and having time to read an entire book over a weekend.

This feeling of having more time even motivated me to make my first turkey during COVID. With the family turkey maker (aka my mother) stuck in Montreal for Thanksgiving, I was inspired to keep the tradition going. Daunted by what had always looked like a marathon of stuffing, basting and gravy making, I was pleasantly surprised at how following in my mother’s footsteps felt soothing in its familiarity. And the pursuit of slow-roasting a bird, which I had avoided for so long, became another example of the joy to be found in making time for simple pleasures.

I know I am not alone in these experiences. I have heard many stories of people finding new meaning in reconnecting with their kids, re-engaging with nature or finding enjoyment in baking bread for the first time. The truth is that this forced slow down has made it easier and, in many ways, necessary to look for the good in the seemingly banal moments of our everyday lives. Stripping away our chock-full calendars, the never-ending running around and our incessant need to plan for the future, has heightened our awareness of what’s right in front of us. All I can say to this is “It’s about time!”

Over a decade ago, I found myself in pursuit of this slower life when my husband and I moved our family to Halifax to be closer to the ocean. Even after getting settled, I remember feeling like I was always moving faster than everyone else. Often, when I pulled up to the check-out line at the grocery store, a nearby shopper would say to me “you go ahead miss, you look like you’re in rush.” Months went by and, no matter how hard I tried, I could not settle into the smaller city rhythm. Eventually, we moved back to Toronto.

The irony of this is not lost on me — that a pandemic, not the ocean, has deepened my connection to my own life.

I have read many predictions about how the longer COVID goes on the longer the new habits we have acquired will remain after it’s gone. I am not sure if this will play out given that the pent-up demand for socializing with friends and colleagues and getting back to travel and eating out will soon be unleashed. But I, for one, am hoping that, even without the lockdowns and lineups, this new habit of taking the time to find the magic in everyday moments stays around for good.