This is a time of great national pride. I’m raising a glass to you all

One day Covid will be a memory and we’ll never again take for granted the sweetness of normality. Picture: David Geraghty

So goodbye to this most ratty of years and good riddance to it. Freedom right now has never tasted so beautiful. It’s the wonder of working and shopping and socialising relatively normally as less fortunate friends in Britain and America and Europe exist in a way that’s still clenched, their lives still yoked to the wily shapeshifting villain of 2020. Yet in Australia we’ve been relatively lucky as we steal Christmas back from the plague’s stubborn clutches; as we unfurl with wonder and relief at being where we are.

I take my hat off to the politicians of each of our states and territories, working so valiantly to return to us the gift of normality. This year we’ve seen a shift from rights to obligations in terms of the individual; what is right for the collective as opposed to a singular entity, and it’s been a lesson in discipline and generosity for us all.

What would you keep from this year? Oh, so much. Handwashing more often. Respect for first responders. A quieter, distilled life, with less dashing about in it; an embracing of that liberating little word no. A newfound love of Uno and chess and streaming. A keener observation of nature because we had the spareness in our strange new lives to do it; a greater awe for the beauty of this wild planet.

This was the best year we’ve had as a family because it was quieter, cosier, stiller. We were rushing about less but living more. Couldn’t rely on wide friendship circles or fancy holidays or large social occasions to distract us, so had to rely on each other. We were forced together – forced to rub along – and despite some early teething issues it was a marvel. An enforced stopping was just the medicine my family needed and I hope we always retain something of the humble lessons of this time.

This was also, for many of us, the year of sleep, most gratefully. The year of the circuit-breaker as jobs and work locations shifted, and of not realising how exhausted we really were – until we stopped. In some ways, for many of us, this year felt like a great corrective. Nature’s corrective.

Respair is a beautiful old English word that’s fallen out of use; it means the return of hope after a period of despair and it feels so appropriate for this time. Maybe the word only resurfaces in plague times, when we yearn to rest and repair from anxiety’s fret. Yes, there’s a lot of work ahead of us, but it feels like we’re on an upward curve, heading into the light.

Apparently Aussies (and Brits) had higher survival rates than the Yanks in World War II prisoner of war camps because we had a tradition of looking out for each other; it wasn’t so much about the individual but about caring for others, too. We all beat Covid, for each other, and for the most vulnerable Australians among us most of all. So I say thank you to the politicians and scientists and first responders, thank you to everyone who tried to beat this wily foe. Which is all of us. This is a time of great national pride.

One day Covid will be a memory and we’ll never again take for granted the sweetness of normality. So many of us have spent our lives attempting to leave this land, to find new homes, and now we’re flocking back to the glorious tall light with thankfulness singing in our hearts. This is a great country to live in, and raise children in, and despite its faults I’m so proud of it, of all of us, and of everything we’ve achieved this year. It’s been our very own year of wonders. Australia, you bloody beauty. The heaving shops this Christmas have never felt so good. So normal. So wondrous. We did it. Merry Christmas. Happy holidays. I’m raising a glass this year to you all.