Funny old times, these. My Dad would have called this all a ‘rum do’.
(I’m not sure if that’s a real phrase or a ‘my dad-ism’.)
And whether it lasts for 3 weeks, 6 months or more – this will all end one day
Hard to believe at the moment – but all things do pass.
(That was the Bible, I think, rather than my dad)
The uncertainty is difficult for lots of us, I know – some more than others.
If you are the kind of person who finds comfort from order and needs certainty – the not knowing how long this is for is probably worse than the actual restrictions in place.
It’s so tempting when things are difficult to JUST focus on the other side.
When this is over I will…
I can’t wait to…
But here you are, now, living the moments you will reminisce about with strangers one day –
“Remember the days of the lockdown?”
Your grandchildren won’t even believe you…
“When I was younger we weren’t even allowed to go out in the street and you couldn’t even get toilet paper in the shops”
(yeah right, grandma!)
It has given many of us a new understanding of when our grandparents talked about the war… and we are only a week or two in.
It’s barely started – there may be no bombs dropping but people ARE dying and that feels weird and scary.
But also they talked about the Blitz mentality and we’ve started to see something like that too.
People pulling together, helping each other out, looking out for their neighbours, putting rainbows in windows – shops giving away flowers… just to cheer people up.
All that’s already happening.
Underpaid nurses, doctors, and careworkers are finally valued as the most important people in the country.
Running towards the fire for us
The country stood on its front step and applauded their gratitude as one.
Over 400,000 people have volunteered to help strangers.
We’ve taken time to realise that without supermarket workers and lorry drivers – people we might have taken for granted – we just don’t eat.
A few weeks ago that would have seemed ridiculous.
The whole planet, shaken up like a snowglobe, and while most of its still in the air… those few fragments have landed in better places
And while there’s little I can personally do in the bigger picture, I can keep myself well.
Not add to the burden – stay useful, offer help.
It’s not much, but it’s something, right?
I can count my blessings that I live in a beautiful part of the country, and that I have had time to see more of nature and that I have been permitted to do that.
I got to walk 65 kilometers last week in the sunshine, chatting and taking in the wonderful views.
(that may not last long, I’m aware so I haven’t wasted a second).
I’m so lucky.
I’m not exhausted on a ward trying to keep people alive knowing I may well catch what they have.
I’m not struggling for breath or losing a loved one.
And that’s today.
If all that changes, I’ll find something else to be lucky about.
I want the stories I tell about this time to be about the good stuff, not the bad, so I’m making sure to look for as much of it as I can, while I can.
Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, so I’m taking no chances.