Grateful for a view

I’m grateful for my view. I can see the misty bottoms of clouds rolling over the mountain. I can see the slopes gradually vanishing into the grey. I can see rooftops and bits of houses peeping out of the suburban forest, the trees taking on their autumn rusts and reds.  Gaps in the cloud sometimes reveal the gap that is Constantia Neck.

Wind tugs at the curtains framing the open window. It rushes leaves below me into activity. The air smells of coming rain and foliage. Redwing starlings swoop about as busy as ever, their piping whistles so distinct and clear.

Rain is on the way.

I’m grateful for my view. With it, quarantine is bearable.

We’ve heard that our 14 day quarantine clock started ticking when we arrived at this facility. Because that’s the day Immigration officials stamped our passports. But we were in quarantine on our boat at the end of the dock for several days before that. An administrative ‘glitch’ is what it was called. It’s a glitch that will give us three extra days in quarantine unless someone unglitches it. We don’t want special treatment. We just want to go home.

I have elderly parents living with me. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger their health. I know I’ve had no contact with anyone but my crewmates and the sea for well over two weeks. I wouldn’t go home if I was a risk. And every medic we’ve spoken to agrees that we are not.

 I’m slowly resigning myself to the fact that the officials are following strict processes and that these times require blunt instruments. Our situation is different, but they don’t have the capacity to deal with nuance right now. But to hear that a glitch will keep us here longer than necessary, even by theirown rules, is tough to deal with.

I’m grateful for my view. The clouds and the cool and the autumn slowly scroll towards winter. The seasons have their pace.

I take a breath and settle down to wait.