It's getting harder to be personable these days, at least in the way we used to be.

Please don't take it personally.

I used to get away with a friendly smile when I wasn't quite sure if the person in front of me was someone I knew or someone who looked vaguely familiar. You can't see my smile anymore. I can't see yours.

Without it, you're harder to make out too.

Is that person standing by their car on the side of the road someone I've known for two decades or another new resident who will be puzzled by the wild woman tooting the horn as she drives by?

Is that guy in the next cashier lane over who I think it is? I don't dare get close enough to see his eyes, of course.

The rules of social distancing have made it harder on those of us with poor eyesight and even poorer memories. We must remain at least 6 feet apart and move as quickly past one another as possible too.

There's no time for the sort of idle chit chat that used to buy me time for the synapses to fire in my brain to bring names back into focus. There's no way to suss out a chin that's unmistakably from a certain local family lineage to clue me into your identity.

So don't take it personally. I might smile beneath the mask, forgetting you can't see it. I might wave. I might not.

If you notice me, feel free to make the first move.

I always knew my bald head would come in handy one day. It's hard to mistake me even behind the mask, even with an extra COVID 19 packed around my middle section.