Have we ever not been in lockdown?

I’m getting to the point of this experience where memories of ‘normal’ life have faded and it feels as if we might be living in this limbo forever. Instagram shots of those in other parts of the country (and the world) happily going away on holidays or walking around outside mask-free seem jarring and part of another reality.

Logically, I know this will soon be a story that we recount as history. A memory that we conjure with hints of amusement and shake our heads at.

But for now, it is very, very real.

I’ve travelled to both ends of the spectrum. Relished in the additional hours with family. Enjoyed the chance to bake. I’ve read through more books than I can count – curled up under the cosy grey blanket in the living room and escaped to other worlds. I’ve celebrated mini milestones, enjoyed the slower pace, enjoyed the chance to be a part of the educational experience.

Then there have been the moments of fury. Frustration and exhaustion. Absolute lack of perspective. I’ve railed at being itself, pounded my fists at the sky and lamented the prison walls that seem inescapable.

Thankfully the moments in the realm of chaos have been few, though they seem to loom over the happy ones with an insidious shadow. I’ve had to reorient my perspective, again and again. Starting off each morning with the mantra ‘It’s going to be a great day’ before my consciousness has a chance to fully awaken. I’ve meditated for longer, prayed harder, and reached out to friends to remind myself that the world is greater than just what my senses perceive right now.

Managing the needs and seemingly unlimited energies of four spirited children is hard work, and sometimes it threatens to undo us. We endure doors slammed and voices raised, weather complaints that we are the ‘worst parents ever’. Screen time boundaries push ever-outwards and we struggle to find the balance between ‘learning’ and ‘zoning out’.

And yet, we smile at the blooming relationships between siblings – the imaginative games they conjure together. Marvel at the brief windows of intelligible dinner conversations (amidst the usual ‘don’t believe it, don’t receive it’ retorts and ‘what you say is what you are’ on endless repeat). We look forward to the knock on the front door alerting us to exciting deliveries, and throw ourselves into making the backyard as enticing as possible (with a ninja-line and high-bounce trampoline).

What will we say when we look back on this time? What lessons will we have learned? Will we throw ourselves wholeheartedly into social scenes again or will we be more reserved as a result? What parts of ‘before’ will we go back to?

For now, I’m taking it day to day. With lots of chocolate and cups of tea, a long line of books waiting in BorrowBox. If seconds turn into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours into days, then surely this will end sometime… won’t it?