Being at Home

Day 4 of lock down; day 2 of site closure. It’s just us and two other couples on site including the owner and his wife. It’s very quiet, though the springtime bird song is delightful and surf has been pumping away in the background. This is how we have always liked it here - quiet. Now though, it’s quiet for a different, scary reason and everyone here who has a home to go to has been told to leave.

Staying at home in order not to spread this coronavirus is mostly being observed though there are always those who think the rules don’t apply to them, or that they know better, that aren’t worried about getting it, or simply didn’t get the memo. Surfers have continued to turn up here and last night we saw grass roots social control at work in the verbal bashing they got on Facebook. I wonder if it’s had the effect of deterring them.

I feel for the surfers, and for everyone for whom the great outdoors is their natural home. “Go the fuck home”, a slogan being used across social media, means what, exactly? What if you’re  homeless? Vague instruction hasn’t helped either. To begin with we are told that while unnecessary travel is not ok, it’s ok to travel 30 mins to a place where you can take exercise, and what happens? Exactly what you’d expect to happen - accidental congregations of people trying to have some much needed recreation in a remote place.

For our part, we now have this beautiful place to wander about in with plenty of social distance. How lucky are we? But the children’s room that I had prepared for Reuben and Ivy’s first sleep-over now stores the extra supplies we picked up for the long stay. The gifts for Seb and Margot from our trip are in there too, with the other toys, waiting for a joyful visit. I hope it won’t be too long. It’s already been too long after 4 months away in the motorhome. 

Last night I had disturbing dreams. My grandchildren had forgotten me; the bond broken. I’ve fretted about how to maintain contact. They are so young, and video linked contact is so hit-and-miss unsatisfactory. I miss having them on my lap or beside me as we read a story, or chat, or play a game, make pancakes. But I am glad of this time for them and their parents. For the moment they are getting full-on quality time at home. 

Home is where the heart is, they say, and my heart is in many places.