263 Days
This piece was written by 2022 Storytelling for Change participant, Zoe Dawkins. As part of the program, the cohort was invited to write and share a story in their final week.
Day 76:
“Where’s your mask?” a cyclist boomed into my ear as he passed Jane and I on the creek. Close enough to feel intimate, violated. I tried to yell back “I have a medical exemption”. But he had disappeared into the distance along the winding path. I was left feeling stupid and ashamed, and outraged. Surely people can see the scabs on my face? It did make me feel anxious passing other people after that, but Jane and I had a laugh about it. It was good to see her.
Day 112:
I wrote myself a work permit and I headed into Fitzroy. It felt so good to leave my zone, flying down St George’s road on my bike. It was eerily quiet on Gertrude St. Hardly anyone around but I noticed everyone was very well dressed in expensive, but cool clothes. I needed to go to the toilet but none of the takeaway shops were obliging. No-one wants to take the risk. Sometimes it does feel like we’re become characters in a dystopian novel. Jane says it will be like this for 5 years at least until we eradicate it. Dave says the government will never let go of its control.
Day 158:
I took the kids down the creek for a rendezvous with friends. We headed up to the oval, out of sight. The girls were playing mothers and babies with the pram for about an hour, while Sidney toddled around after the ball, occasionally trying to hijack the pram from Mavis.
Day 94:
A woman stopped me on the street and said how lovely it was to see someone’s face. She wasn’t wearing a mask either. Not sure if she had a medical exemption, but I didn’t ask.
Day 231:
I’ve stopped answering my phone. I missed a call from my sister today. I don’t have the energy to call back. I don’t have anything to say. I can’t even be bothered to watch anything anymore.
Day 176:
The only thing keeping me sane at the moment is long walks on the creek listening to Tara Brach podcasts. Despite the rubbish, dog poo and the brown water, it is a magical place. The sound of the water flowing over the rocks. The tall grasses and vibrant yellow of the wattle. The tawny frogmouth asleep in the towering gums. The frogs calling from the billabongs. I often think about all the locals who have given up their time to plant trees, weed, care. There are so many people down here these days. I smile at most people but try to avoid eye contact with some, especially if they are wearing a mask. Just in case.
Day 215:
I got my first jab. I left it to the last minute. My arm is super sore, but otherwise I feel fine at the moment. I’m still not sure about it but I don’t want to be locked out. I don’t want my kids to miss out. I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t want to die. I haven’t told Dave.
Day 190:
I got into a Facebook fight with Jane about Leigh Sales – who is apparently an anti-Dan, anti-lockdown sympathiser. I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught when I responded. I was physically shaking as I typed my retreat. I logged off and cried. I messaged Jane later. I think I’ll stay off Facebook for a while.
Day 246:
The tension at home is palpable at the moment. Anytime we discuss politics, Mavis starts yelling “stop talking”, eyes bulging and full of worries. It is worse at night, after the kids go to bed. Dave storms off to the shed and shuts me out. I turn the anger inward and lash out at myself.
Day 9:
It was a beautiful day so we took the kids down the creek for a walk. It was like utopia. Young people lying around on the grass, people playing music, doing yoga. Everyone was out enjoying the sun and sitting around chatting. Dave carried Mavis on his shoulders while Sidney slept in the carrier snuggled in close to my body. I wish it could be like this always.