Yesterday, I sat and watched the Together at Home concert. I love a good charity concert. You know the ones. It started years ago with Live Aid, and then more recently we had Firefight Australia. They are the ones where musicians unite for a common cause. Where you get a whole selection of your favourite people in one concert. And yesterday, where I sat and blubbered like a baby.
It was the final song. Andrea Bocelli (a long time fav), Celine Dion (All bow down to the queen of belting out an anthem), John Legend (smooth, both to listen to and look at), and Lady Gaga (who I didn't actually recognise at the time!). Together their voices blended into this rich, breathtakingly beautiful rendition of The Prayer, because how else do you end a worldwide concert during a deadly pandemic.
And I sat and cried.
Not just cried. I wept.
My children looked at me like I was mad. But after 21 days at home, I heard that beautiful song and I cracked. And I felt all of the feels. Sad. Worried. Scared. Proud. Moved. Lonely. Joy.
And then I turned off the TV and went and made a cup of coffee. I got on with my day. Within 15 minutes, the kids and I were playing Monopoly (again), my husband was out mowing the lawn and we had all settled back into our happy little bubble of socially distanced bliss.
Because we are one of the lucky ones. We are one of the ones that will come out the other end of this time (touch wood), having been a little bit inconvenienced, but more or less, we’ll be ok.
Because we are one of the lucky ones.
My husband and I can both work from home.
But I see my friends who, instead of a bustling cafe where people are lining up for their morning coffee from 6am everyday, have now had to cut back the hours and days that their cafe is open because the lack of income means they can barely stay afloat.
I see my friend who, within a matter of days, went from a double income family with a handful of kids, to no income and desperately trying to find work in a time when there is none.
I see my friend who is a nurse, and despite having three school aged children at home, is still heading into working everyday. Making that sacrifice in a high risk environment, because she is doing her part.
And then I see us.
Us, who can work from home, still get paid, and come out the other end, whenever that may be, largely unscathed.
It looks different. The way I work looks different. It is different and it may be harder. It might involve a level of flexibility, a different way to how I’ve always done it. But it’s not forever. It’s tricky, and sometimes frustrating. But it’s not forever.
And it’s better than my friend who is struggling to keep his cafe open.
And it’s better than my friend and her husband who literally have lost their source of income.
And it’s better than my friend who is dealing day in and day out wit sick patients in a hospital with Covid 19 cases down the hall.
So I’m done complaining. Life is different, and it’s trickier and it might be harder. But it’s not forever. And if, for this short amount of time, I have to change the way I live my life, the way I work, and the way I raise my family, I will. But I am not going to complain.
Not when I am one of the lucky ones.
To those that are not so lucky. I see you. And I’m making a commitment that, as well as doing all I can to help you out (which may or may not include increasing my daily intake of take away coffee), I promise you that I will stop complaining.
Because I am one of the lucky ones.