Well, we weren’ttechnicallytogether.
We were in sunny places, snowy places, various countries, commuting, staying at home.
We were together, though.
And we weren’t screaming.
These grids, these scores.
Wordle swept through an omicron winter when flights were canceled, trips postponed, returns to work delayed again.
It was like bread baking 2.0.
Just another viral pandemic moment.
And it did: Scores stopped being shared.
I eventually stopped playing regularly sometime in the late spring, I don’t know when.
I want to go back to that moment.
I remember what was going on: I was depressed.
I felt disconnected from friends, from family, from anyone.
For a while, it was random food shots of me puttingchili crisp in oatmeal.
Then it was Wordle scores.
I found a little community of old friends who wrote back and shared theirs.
We nodded our virtual heads.
We connected, just a bit.
These moments may seem frivolous.
At the end of 2022, where are we?
Twitter has been acquired and gutted, and is slowly being transformed.
I still think of it as a little spark of connection.
Life in 2022, trying to go back to “normal,” has felt uncanny.
I’ve gone on flights.
I’ve gone to the UK again.
None of it felt normal.
Some of it felt familiar.
Echoes of the old, overlaps of the new.
How do I move forward here?
It doesn’t have to be Wordle – that’s just a word game gone viral.
Show me how we could reconnect and not feel alienated.
