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Sundays and Wednesdays
Since early February I have been at home writing a book. On sabbatical. No overseas travel. No face-to-face conferences. No museum visits. Just at home. The garden is flourishing.
On Sunday mornings I speak with my daughter who is locked down in her apartment in Manhattan, New York. Cups of tea for me. It’s breakfast time in Sydney.
Dinner is on the table in New York.
At 7pm we listen to the sound of New Yorkers cheering and hooting from their windows for the health care workers across the city. It happens every night. We wait. We listen. My son-in-law puts his phone on loudspeaker so I can join in too.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
This time is precious.
On both sides of the world we are tiring of the restrictions. When will it be safe to take up where we left off? It’s a new world.
Many unknowns.
Travel.
When will I see those cherished two again face-to-face?
Talking. Always talking.
Laughing.
Eating meals together.
Completing jigsaws.
Scrabble.
It is not the same online. So far away.
Each Wednesday at lunchtime I visit my son and Millie. She is the new puppy. Dulwich Hill so close to Canterbury. It’s routine now. It’s a routine I love.
Working from home. WFH.
Seeing family face-to-face. Nothing takes its place.
We walk and buy coffee. The birds are raucous. Nature is cheering.
Millie joins us – she sniffs each step following her own storybook through the suburb.
At home with a sandwich, locally made, we want to support our community.
Making the most of it. We are lucky. Each day. Each moment is precious. It’s a new world. It is not the same online.
Family.
I love Sundays and Wednesdays.
Since early February I have been at home writing a book. On sabbatical. No overseas travel. No face-to-face conferences. No museum visits. Just at home. The garden is flourishing.
On Sunday mornings I speak with my daughter who is locked down in her apartment in Manhattan, New York. Cups of tea for me. It’s breakfast time in Sydney.
Dinner is on the table in New York.
At 7pm we listen to the sound of New Yorkers cheering and hooting from their windows for the health care workers across the city. It happens every night. We wait. We listen. My son-in-law puts his phone on loudspeaker so I can join in too.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
This time is precious.
On both sides of the world we are tiring of the restrictions. When will it be safe to take up where we left off? It’s a new world.
Many unknowns.
Travel.
When will I see those cherished two again face-to-face?
Talking. Always talking.
Laughing.
Eating meals together.
Completing jigsaws.
Scrabble.
It is not the same online. So far away.
Each Wednesday at lunchtime I visit my son and Millie. She is the new puppy. Dulwich Hill so close to Canterbury. It’s routine now. It’s a routine I love.
Working from home. WFH.
Seeing family face-to-face. Nothing takes its place.
We walk and buy coffee. The birds are raucous. Nature is cheering.
Millie joins us – she sniffs each step following her own storybook through the suburb.
At home with a sandwich, locally made, we want to support our community.
Making the most of it. We are lucky. Each day. Each moment is precious. It’s a new world. It is not the same online.
Family.
I love Sundays and Wednesdays.