Time
By Sarah Andrew, Liberty Common Equity Rental Housing Co-operative (CERC) member
During lock down there was an eerie quiet and peacefulness’s in the streets. All around us we became fastidious, washing our hands and clothes; scared of inhaling that dreadful virus. Now, with restrictions easing, so do our minds.
As I sit back on the creek with a friend sipping Sav-Blanc out of picnic glasses, my mind is distracted, as my twelve year old son Lewis, has hit the streets for a couple of hours with his friends: slurpee’s and running to the lake, they should be fine.
For so long now, with remote learning, his computer games and headset, life has been guided by technology. He had just stared a new high school before Corona broke out, with no friends beginning with him he come home on the first day with a New York Bronx accent, and myriad of new swearwords.
During lockdown we played it very safe, hardly even walking with people even when we were allowed. Lewis never complained about Corona, he said he didn't care. I think he may have even alluded once that it was going to be the end of civilisation, poor kid, what goes through their heads and what they discuss on those headsets, I don't know.
My friend on the creek is smoking, she smokes a lot. I have given up for a year, and gently sniff in the lingering smoke from her cigarette: lovely. She is a good old friend of mine and my mother's. We have known her for twenty years now. One of those family friends you forgive all their minor faults because of their very generous hearts, and the fact that they are like your family.
I sip on the wine which I don't really feel like today. I am nervous sitting near her, perhaps because of Corona, perhaps just because I have spent so much time alone on projects that I have loved and am not used to sharing my time any more: I feel on edge.
I look at my text. The text shows a photo of Lewis, with a huge confident smile, swinging over the Coburg lake on a rope. Behind him, is a shirtless boy swimming with outstretched arms.
I show Kathy the photo,
'Looks like he is really enjoying himself, 'she says.
I phone him immediately.
'Get out of that water I say, 'Ebola' I say.
'E.coli you mean mum' Lewis says. He sounds a bit nervous though.
I make a mental note to ring the council and have the rope cut down.
At home, we watch repeats that we have already seen on Netflix too many times. Shows we can both agree on like Black AF, or Live at the Apollo. Shows that merge between both twelve-year old's curiosities and a 44-year-old experience of humour.
I look down at my tracksuit pants with a hole in them, I have been wearing tracksuit pants all year. During lock down, I tried to buy a pair at Target, but they had all sold out. I quite enjoyed the distraction from self grooming and people maintaining their images. It's hard to maintain an image in a tracksuit and a mask.
While Lewis sleeps, I decide to have one more glass of wine. The transition to seeing people again has affected me, put me on edge, it is something I need to ease into, like a lot of people. I pick up the phone, always attracted to the phone when drinking, and I ring old friends that I haven't spoken to in years. They are surprised to hear from me, and hopefully somewhat happy, even though it is getting really late. I ask several of them to come along to Christmas at my place, with an inkling at the time that this is not a good idea.
The streets are getting busier, Lewis friends are asking to come around, life is beginning to bustle a bit. I start to do more and more things I feel obliged to do, rather than for my own self care and joy.
There was such a dichotomy between anxiety and freedom during lock down, the anxiety around catching the virus, and the freedom of time, expansive and needing to be filled in, sometimes, creative ways.
The outfit of tracksuit and mask was fine with me, going for a walk and noticing the multiplying birds playfully swooping at my head. Thinking, are there more birds than usual? Is this because all these cars are off the road? The air was smelling perfectly clean, as materialism dissolved.
A scary time, a liberating time, it shifts again, unknowingly. Not really looking forward to Christmas. . . I guess I’ll have to get used to people again.