I’ve been watching our part of the world slowly come back to life. It’s a small part because our state borders are still closed, and I have to say, in all the time I’ve been alive, those borders have never been closed.
It seems odd that once country has six states and two territories, and at the moment you can’t travel between them.
Perhaps no so funny, maybe, given the times we live in.
So, would it be worse than the day east and west Berlin finished up with a wall and saw families separated simply by finding themselves on the wrong side.
We have family in another state and we can’t visit them. We have friends in other states, and we cant visit them.
There are places in this country we wanted to visit, but we can’t. Not now. Maybe not later, because some of those states are seeing a resurgence of the virus.
We are only allowed to visit our own state, but there are places we haven’t been, and things we haven’t seen, so maybe that will the prompt to do so.
But, the thing is …
We are all so used to getting on planes and going anywhere in our country, or anywhere in the world that takes our interest. Now we can’t.
It’s had an effect on my writing because now I spend more time on character development rather than where the characters are. Places are secondary now, the people, well, they’re becoming more than just people in a story.
And I’m getting to see more of myself, remember more about what has happened in the past, and more of an interest in the family tree, where we came from, who we were, and how I finished up where I am.
Australian’s always joke about the fact their forbears came out as convicts. Ours were not, and as far as I’m aware, date back to the 1600s in England. My brother knows more, but I’m sure we were not lords of the manor, probably the serfs who farmed the lord’s fields.
It’s something I have the time to investigate because until this virus goes away, we will not be going anywhere.