Diary Entries

I have a cardboard box. It is now quite full. As I hear a willy wag tail welcoming in Spring I think about my cardboard box and its contents of the last six months. I have kept, copied, printed off all the funny memes, the graphs, the photos, the articles, the letters, the instructional signs (PLEASE stand 1.5 metres apart) (USE HAND SANITISER) that I have come across since the pandemic began. Or even just before. At the end of January I received an email from the Dean of the University warning returning students from China to isolate. I noticed a Chinese couple wearing masks on our flight back from Launceston on 15th February. On 26th February (our 43rd wedding anniversary) I did a big shop “to stock up” just in case... pasta, rice, tinned tomatoes, oats, tuna, long life milk. I loaded the freezer with frozen veg and meat. On March 2 my friend told there was no toilet paper available in Chatswood Woollies. Did the local people have family in Wuhan? We were waiting for the announcement and then it happened on March 11 (IT IS A PANDEMIC). And so, I watched and recorded the daily numbers in my trusty blue Collins diary with comments attached, and I listened to Scott (PM as they call him) and our Glad and Daniel and Kerrie and Brett and Anastasia and Nick and all those other people thrown into the limelight. They almost feel like friends now. A local called Tom started a great one stop Facebook page with all the details and numbers. I took screen shots of the dancing, the singing, the poetry readings (The Great Realisation... wow). And now my box is overflowing. It may be of interest to my grandchildren one day.

TENSION The tension between reaction and no reaction. Between complacency and anxiety. Between compliance and non-compliance. The subtle CRITICISM of my actions, seen as an over-reaction. Reflecting my need to PREPARE and PROTECT, to gather essentials. And yes, to procure enough toilet paper (or at least have last year’s Yellow Pages at the ready just in case we had to “make do”). An unwanted, selfish perception of SELF-SACRIFICE while others were flaunting the rules. A hint of ANNOYANCE at being law abiders, risk averse and doing “the right thing”. UNTIL... the stories of OTHERS also in lockdown, also FEARFUL, at more risk, with no jobs, no income, no space, no “others” to support or be loved by or for them to love. Illness. Death. The deep SADNESS. And the REALISATION that the right thing was to do the RIGHT thing. For us. For everybody. And then... the CALM. The PEACE. The quiet ACCEPTANCE. No “fear of missing out”. No pressure. No deadlines. An AWARENESS of sunrises and sunsets, of colours, of birdsong, of books and music. With no time limit. No call of “elsewhere” and no expectations by others. For the first time an empty calendar and, surprisingly, the STILLNESS that has brought. And the opportunity to just “BE”. And a profound GRATITUDE for where we live and for those who have LED and for those who have CARED for us.