Cover photo by author
Inside the mind of another lonely soul
It was pouring rain outside, but that didn’t stop me from taking a walk. There’s really not much else to do during this damned pandemic anyway. As I was strolling down the streets of Old Montreal, I couldn’t help but feel lonely like never before.
Every shop was closed. I was the only pedestrian in sight. In my whole 1-hour walk, I think I’ve crossed paths with a single other human being. And it wasn’t that cold, so that wasn’t the reason. It was also around the time most workers typically finish work, so there should have been some activity.
Alas, it was gloomy — not unlike the past few days, really.
I stopped in front of the Ferris wheel and got lost in my thoughts. It really felt like I was in a zombie apocalypse, not unlike Zombieland’s scene at the amusement park. Thankfully, there were no zombies in sight. There were simply no other souls around.
At least zombies would have added a sense of thrill.
Did I really just think that?
I guess that’s just how lonely we’ve come to be during this pandemic. We’re looking for any way we can to spice up our lives, but truly, there really aren’t many when you’re stuck inside your own home.
I guess I’m lucky to have a newborn son. Even though life is routine, at least, he brings something new to the table pretty much every week. For better or worse.
Back in 2016, I left the comfort of my home in Toronto to become a nomad. That has led me to travel the world and live in Cambodia, Spain, India, and Colombia. I lived new experiences almost daily.
When my wife and I conceived our son, we expected to live abroad for a few months. This was to help us keep our life interesting and show Nathan, our son, different places in the world.
Then, boom! A pandemic was announced, just a few days after I had landed in Cuba to write a book. My dreams of being abroad again were shattered. At least, I now live in one of Canada’s most exciting cities, Montreal, I thought.
But like any city, what makes it exciting is the energy the people around give it. No people equals no energy. And a big city with no energy feels very grim. It doesn’t help that we’re now in the Fall and it rains at least three days a week.
I burst out of my bubble and realized I was still standing there, in front of the wheel. I must have been there for a good 10–15 minutes. If there would have been people around, they would probably have thought I was frozen solid or something. But of course, no one passed by. At least, not until I truly snapped out of it.
Someone came out from the ticket cabin. Let me add some emphasis here: I wasn’t alone anymore!
My legs were walking in his direction. I didn’t really think it over, it just happened. It was like my brain was commanding my legs to go to him so I could talk to him. I guess, when you’re that lonely, you don’t really think — you just go with the flow, and that’s exactly what I did.
“Hi,” I said, having no clue what to say.
“Is it closed?” I asked. I knew this was a stupid question. Everything is closed; it’s that simple.
“Yes, it’s closed by law, likely until January of next year,” he replied.
I don’t know why his answer surprised me. I think it’s because this gave me a reality check. We are in the second phase of the lockdown. Things are closed and will remain that way. And like the man said, it will likely stay that way until early next year.
It’s as if I realized that every single day for the rest of the year is going to be like today — gloomy… lifeless.
I chose to keep the conversation going as he was leaving the site. It turns out, the guy was the owner of the Ferris wheel.
“Talk about a thing to own,” I thought.
As we talked, I noticed that he wasn’t all that bummed out about the situation. He probably has other investments that bring him money anyway. He saw it as a way to catch his breath. For him, it was an opportunity to reflect and not stress as much.
“Admirable,” I thought.
We parted ways. I made my way back home; I don’t know where he went. As I was walking back, I realized how much I missed talking to strangers and inquiring about their lives. Life really is exciting when you include other people in the mix, especially when they’re physically close to you.
I fell into my thoughts again, but while walking this time.
“Is there a way we can create new human connections during this pandemic?” I wondered.
Previously, one wouldn’t talk to strangers under normal circumstances. I mean, have real conversations with people you just come across. But maybe we can during the pandemic? Everyone is lonely, no?
I started thinking about who I could strike a conversation with. People waiting for the elevator, the barista across the street, the delivery guy, people sitting on the next bench over, other parents walking their baby, etc.
There’s actually no shortage of people you can strike a conversation with. And each of them is as lonely as you are.
During that walk, I made it my mission to be more deliberate in starting conversations with strangers. I’m doing that for myself but also for others. Global morale is as low as it’s ever been, and surely feeling like you’re not alone in this world can make the situation brighter.
I snapped out of my day-dream again. This time, I was in front of my building. It was still gloomy, rainy, and lifeless. But something felt different. On my walk back, I made the realization that this darkness that engulfs us doesn’t need to exist. I can choose to make my days brighter, no matter how dark they are.
Human connections are still possible. And most of the time, that’s all you need to make your day brighter.
My lonely walk, it turns out, wasn’t as lonely as I thought it was.