Reflection: It’s 6.30 am Sunday morning and I wake up. Time to make the first decision of the day. When will I arise from the sheets?
I defer for 15 minutes…..
After a short dreaming time I decide to seize the day and make my way to the coffee percolator.
I love to watch Charles Stanley on TV3 at 7 am. This morning he is talking about not giving into fear. I’m so glad I got up.
In an hour it’s time for breakfast. Bacon bakes in the oven while I take the half avocado left in the fridge overnight and smear it over toast. I’m careful to cut around the brown bits.
Once the poached egg is ready I throw the bacon over the avocado and pop the egg on top. Delicious.
Our live stream church is starting at 10 am and I want to have time to practice on my keyboard piano.
I find the metronome takes no prisoners but if I slow it down to 60 beats per minute, a novice like me can cope.
I’m learning beginners jazz. Some bloke on the internet has produced a YouTube video of all the songs I am learning. I am very grateful.
At 9:45 am it’s still pouring with rain. I FaceBook message my pastor to tell him that ‘I don’t think I can make it to church this morning, it’s raining.’
Someone immediately responds,
I light the fire, grab my bean bag and another coffee and sit down to watch the service on my cell phone.
I’m feeling really cosy.
And I discover a new-found freedom in the streamed church service.
You can eat, make another coffee, go to the toilet, chat, while the pastor is preaching.
After church I need to go to the supermarket. I’m out of some necessities and need to stock up.
After arriving at New World I wait in the line outside. There are white markers to keep us apart. Every few minutes a lady dressed in black, wearing a white mask and gloves, calls us in three at a time. It is surreal.
Check out operators stand behind Perspex shields and frantically spray the surfaces with sanitiser. I have to take my bag and load it myself. The operators are not allowed to touch your bag.
Once I get home I’m still feeling unnerved by the experience. Have I brought home the virus? What is it attached to?
I wash my hands and place a plastic bag of apples and paper towels on the bench. I decide to leave them there for 48 hours. I figure, after that period of time the virus will get bored and eat itself.
I’ve also brought home some baked goods. Danish pastries and muffins. They were really cheap and I could not resist a bargain.
Obviously people are worried about buying them but I have a plan. I put them in the deep freeze. I’m aware that the coronavirus has not touched Antarctica.
Time for lunch.
I over boil some soup and sit down with a piece of toast. I’m still worried about my hands being contaminated so I stab the piece of toast with a fork and eat it from the fork.
I thinketh myself very clever.
Later, I realise I took the piece of toast out of the toaster with my bare hands.
After lunch it’s still raining and I would love to venture outside.
A friend of mine living in a small apartment in Wellington feels the same way. She messages through a picture with the caption: “Feeding the ducks”.
I’m tired of being indoors and since it is only drizzling, I put on my raincoat and venture out.
As I walk down the road the sun comes out and a beautiful rainbow forms over Wellington harbour. I feel this is a promise. Things are going to be okay.
Suddenly, dozens of people line the streets.
Families, couples, singles. The streets are teeming with people.
I walk past one lady and she complains that I am walking around her block anti-clockwise. It’s good that people have not lost their sense of humour.
So many people are out walking and enjoying the experience. I’ve re-learned the Māori side-step so I am out of harm’s way whenever I encounter another human.
I run into some people I have not seen for a couple of months. We stop and chat from a strict two metre distance. The chat is very casual.
I walk past the tennis club. How I long to play tennis again with my tennis mates.
Once I arrive home I chat with my bubble next door. She has been for a walk too.
My daughter in Christchurch texts through a picture of my new grandson. I’m so proud of him sitting up.
How I long to hold him. How I long for my family and friends.
After dinner, it’s time to play the keyboard again. I’m feeling good so I increase the metronome to 61 beats per minute.
As I fall into bed I reflect.
That wasn’t so bad. I survived.
What will Monday bring?
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