Coronavirus: Everything has changed but the sun still rises

Everyone had plans. Birthday parties and weddings, holidays, cosmetic surgery, reunions, work lunches, seminars, graduations, the list is as long as a week suddenly seems to last in March 2020.

And then it changed, at a speed that even when we look back years from now will still seem unfathomable. COVID-19 spread, and just like that our world shrunk and skewed, so that what we are living now is normal on some level even as it is unlike anything we have known.

Perspective can be tricky from the epicentre, so just turn on the television. Watching almost anything, it’s hard not to reconcile the innocence we retained until even this month. Travel shows from a time when we were still free to explore the world. Dating shows where strangers kiss and hug. Panellists sitting cheek by jowl on a television set. Did their studio audiences relish their presence in that recording, now that their presence has been banned indefinitely?

While we were watching them, we moved from our old world into something else. In this new life, human touch has been replaced by a recommended distance of 1.5m. Flattening the curve might once have referred to dieting; now it seems our lives depend on it. Jobs are gold, and anyone who has one wonders what they will do on non-work days.

Our circle of life has become something to be experienced mostly at home. Relatives in other places are all but inaccessible and beloved grandparents may be heard over the phone but not seen in person.

This new life will not be forever. But in the grimness that has accompanied its hurried arrival, some of the best things about living have been overshadowed. Joy and laughter, free and unlimited to the point that we rarely stopped to appreciate them, have slipped down the scale of human reactions. “Make yourself smile,” a friend suggested the other day, when the restrictions and their rapid-fire introduction became momentarily overwhelming. “It makes you release endorphins.”

So I did, and the lightening of anxiety was welcome, fleeting and foreign all at once. But it was also a warning. If I could stop smiling, what else was at risk?

No one wants this new life, but as we endure it, it’s worth considering the upside. Home cooked meals, a respite from crazy commutes, plenty of time for conversation, and families being together (good for many but not all). In our building in Sydney, a neighbour has posted a note offering to shop and call any isolated residents. The list of names of hitherto unknown occupants willing to do the same is growing.

Loss is hard but it can lead to appreciation. I sat on a patch of grass in the sun a few days ago and tried to work, but the sun and the grass were suddenly so distracting. How many had actually ever stopped to consider their beauty? Not me, at least not until so much of our old lives had been taken away.

A few months ago I was focused on an extensive overseas trip. In the autumn of 2020, “as long as I can still take a walk” has become my new mantra in this new everything-from-home life.

But some things have not changed. Sydney Harbour, unaltered, remains stunning. On beautifully still nights, the setting sun turns the western sky an awe-inspiring pink. Every evening colonies of bats fly in ari across the city. And the next morning the sun rises.