Opinion
A sad farewell to gentle era of lockdown
Her name was Pauline and it was the early stages of lockdown. We’d been drilled in the importance of social distancing but it felt strange, almost rude, to blatantly avoid people.
We were walking towards each other so I veered away, as per recent instructions. We caught each other’s gaze and she thanked me for making the effort. She clearly felt awkward too; we laughed about it together. Standing in the gutter with Pauline by a front fence, we got chatting about this new reality.
After some time we wished each other well and continued on our walk. She lived nearby, I learnt, but I’d never seen her before. Or perhaps I had and hadn’t noticed.
Reflecting, as we’ve had the space to do in our coronavirus world, I’ve thought back to the people I met on the streets of an old mining town in southern Austria in which I stayed many years ago. I used to love to walk then too and would welcome the greetings from strangers along the way. “Grüss Gott” would be the daily acknowledgement, expressed with a nod and often a smile.
I tried it upon my return to the trendy inner-city suburb of Melbourne where I lived. “Good morning,” I’d proffer, with a smile. Sometimes I’d be ignored, but mostly I’d receive an embarrassed sort of half-smile. Occasionally, a warm reply and even some snippets of conversation.
As lockdown eases, will we still stop to smell the roses?
Continuing on my walk with a spring in my step after chatting with Pauline that March day, I noticed something tied to a front fence. On closer inspection, I discovered it was a bunch of assorted flowers, obviously freshly picked from the garden. An accompanying notice invited passersby: “Free flowers: please take one to brighten your day.” A mother with her young son looked on curiously from across the street. As they came over, she explained this illustration of thoughtfulness to her little boy.
Later I left some sweets for the home owner, together with a note relating the story of the child. They responded with gratitude, and delight in the story. My last lap that day, as I carefully carried my flower home, saw me walking over a sign inscribed in chalk on the footpath. “Take care."
The words have faded these months later but the sentiment has stayed with me, as I told the family responsible for the gesture when I saw them in their garden just this week.
As the restrictions on our movements ease and we tentatively emerge from our cocoons, I’m feeling some anxiety and trepidation. I don’t think it’s to do with the risk of contamination. No, it’s fear that our world might return to what it had become before the pandemic changed life as we'd known it.
Back in that other world, I’d written frequently about the kindness of strangers in the face of the harsh place Melbourne was becoming. People were rushing: to beat the lights, to catch the tram, to push to the front, to check their messages. The roads were crammed with traffic, horns beeped, cars blocked side streets rather than give way. Life was too manic to notice the person you were passing, or the one sitting next to you on that tram.
What struck me in the feedback I’d receive was how people were crying out for the connection and kindness we’ve witnessed in the past months. Anecdotes were shared relating occasions in which readers recalled recent kindnesses from strangers, and how it had changed their day. Or resolutions, to be mindful of the impact of their own actions.
I’m wondering what our post-pandemic world will look like. Will we still find time to notice each other?
Janine Joseph is a Melbourne writer.