This is how life has been recently: week one, I took a bunch of photos of my family and day to day life. Week 2, zero photos. Week three, some fairly uninspired photos. This week: TBD. This world is full of highs and lows, ebbs and flows.
The seam this thing created in daily life is the most remarkable thing; on March 13th, I was almost buried in work. I had just finished interviewing an editing company – I had so much work that I knew I was going to have to outsource some of it this year, and probably should have already begun. The next six months were lush with bookings – weddings and families and proposals and maternity shoots. I was looking forward to so many things.
And then, just like that, it all stopped.
I’ll be honest – when this first began, I didn’t think it could last more than a couple of weeks. When they started cancelling sporting events, and saying that gatherings were only allowed if there were under 250 people, I didn’t even think it would affect me. I didn’t think it would affect me! How naive.
We’re more than a couple of weeks out. The days have become so much longer. The sun shines and it sets and if you forget for a moment, it feels like spring.
We visited Wyndansea a couple of weeks back.
It’s really nice to have a place to take the kids to just ride their bikes around. There were other people there, but Wyndansea is a big enough place and we didn’t encounter anyone until later on, after a couple of laps and a trek to the sales centre (now boarded – damned vandals).
An evening at Wyndansea is surreal enough on its own – would-be building sites and the wind blowing across the rocky cliffs and all the quiet – it was almost a preview to what was soon to become life as we know it. It’s just quiet at the edge of quiet and the hint of predators prowling in the shadows.
I find it difficult to find purpose in empty afternoons. The big “where do we go from here” question just looms forever. But waiting and waiting and waiting provides no answers. Plans are all for naught, with no end date in sight.
And we wait.
A couple of weeks, I thought. If only.
Slowly, over the weeks, things have shut down. First the businesses. Then the beaches. You can feel the anger growing – the rage of those who think (often rightly) that their neighbours are flouting the rules. That the people who aren’t taking this seriously are prolonging the isolation. That others think themselves the exception to the guidelines. That “guidelines” isn’t a strong enough word. It’s so hard not to be resentful.
And that’s a big deal when you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle – and that the price of losing is high.
There is light at the end of the tunnel, even if we can’t see it. I have to keep telling myself that.