Anyone else feel like they are standing on one of the last pieces of the cracked glacier as it melts around them?
For the first few days heading back into COVID territory, it seemed pretty easy to leap from one piece of ice to the other, delivering what was needed to each of my family members, workplace, community group etc.
But as things warm up and the ice shrinks, it is harder to get from one piece to the other.
Our immediate family of three is geographically closer together, but sometimes poles apart.
We have not suffered earthquake, takeover by the Taliban or hurricane, and there are no COVID cases in our area or region.
Still, there are moments we are in meltdown.
Yes, we are so lucky. Among the luckiest in the world.
We are on a farm in regional New South Wales.
We don’t need to wear a mask from one day to the next if we don’t leave our boundaries.
I know there are people behind closed doors in our towns, our state and our country who have so much more to challenge them.
They have sick loved ones, they have no income, they could be facing the enemy as soon as they open a door.
We are OK. More than OK.
But even in our own lucky, lucky neck of the woods, there are people who are not.
This fear, this loneliness, this storm cloud over mental health, it is not logical.
The dark times do not abate because someone else’s clouds are blacker.
COVID has brought with it so much more than a frightening spray of infection on the breeze.
It has brought an unheard of disruption to our lives – a ripping of children from their sport, a bewildering despair for small business owners – the small boats in this stormy ocean, a separation from the people we love.
And a fear for them. Although we are in a place of sun, I watch my child walk in to her supermarket job with that underlying fear.
Too young to be vaccinated, old enough to be an essential worker.
I send a prayer with her – my annoying, infuriating, lovely, lovely child.
We find our ways to deal with things, as everyone else does. New routines, listening to the news only once a day, spending time outside.
There are millions like us in this country.
Getting along fine, knowing our luck and our blessings, but with a sense of unease made worse by the very different outlooks we encounter – the conspiracy theories, the finger pointing, the anger.
Underneath we are all the same and all want the same things for ourselves and our families – safety, security and happiness.
Let’s hope we are on our way there.
Marie Low is a freelance journalist based in Gunnedah, NSW.
