Wednesday 15 April. I’m sitting here with my youngest daughter snuggled beside me, considering the events of my morning. I’m not sure if ‘event’ is quite the right terminology to describe a mundane trip to the supermarket, really. Or at least, it never used to be! But this is only the second time I have left my home (apart from walks) since lockdown began. Here in our bubble, we’ve pretty much settled into a semblance of normality – or at least adjusted for now to our ‘new norm.’ But there’s something about venturing out into the real world, as it were, that highlights this reality that we’re living in.
I had to collect some repeat medications, so my outing included a stop by the pharmacy, a letter to post, and some supplies to pick up from our local (little) grocery store. I honestly felt like I was defying lockdown protocol (I wasn’t, I promise!) as I made the almost-twenty-minute trek across town to collect our prescriptions. I was surprised at the number of cars on the road, although I suppose it was still far fewer than normal. With only myself and a podcast for company, the driving time even held a hint of luxury.
As I pulled into the emptiest part of the carpark, I could see that our pharmacy, and the doctor’s surgery opposite, were lined with people keeping a careful two-metre distance from each other. Road cones, barriers, taped markers and signs led the way, and I found myself flustered enough that I had trouble making out where to stand, or what to do. Inadvertently passing the first person in the queue, I received a scowl and a grumbled comment as I quickly apologised my way back to the correct space in line. As I did so, I received a glimpse inside of more road cones and tape partitioning off the store and a customer at the counter, before my positioning blocked the rest of the view through the door.
The side entrance we stood by was open no wider than a standard doorframe, and blocked with a stool bearing a taped sign. No one was to enter, unless asked. Although there would’ve been at least ten other people spread across the alleyway at that point, the silence was palpable. In hindsight, the surrealness of it all makes me think of a movie set. I guess that (and the board game) is the sum total of my previous pandemic experience!
As I stood there, puzzling over how this would work, and apologising again to the elderly man whose place I had nearly usurped (who I am sure was equally as flustered and perhaps even more anxious than myself) I suddenly realised that my name was being called. Our pharmacist had recognised me, and had brought the packages straight to the door for me! I know I have already expressed thankfulness for those who are working in essential business, but today I think that needs mention again. She handed over my bagged prescriptions with a smile – as she always has – and all I could say was, “thank you.” I feel like those working in these frontlines deserve so much more, but thankfulness is the best I can do.
That particular moment stayed with me as I pulled over at our local little supermarket on my way back home, as I carefully checked the aisles before taking a step, when I triple-analysed exactly which product I was about to touch so that I didn’t make a mistake that I couldn’t put back, and as I carefully placed my groceries on the counter one by one, beneath the perspex screen designed to keep shop employees protected. I was thankful, too, for the employee who served me – I suspect with a smile beneath her mask – as I used contactless payment, carried the groceries back to the car, sanitised my hands for the umpteenth time, and drove home.
I do look forward to the day that I don’t have to wipe down my groceries before they enter my house, and life can resume a sense of normality, even when it comes to errands. I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before we are able to (safely) return to life ‘as it was.’ And I know that I’m not the only one feeling that way. But right now, even as the sense of what used to be mundane has changed so drastically, I’m so very, very thankful to each and every person and family represented by those who are willingly and cheerfully working in the frontlines. And for the difference the smiles I encountered on my ‘mundane’ trip today made, to me.
Kristy x
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