There is a nostalgic air to the way I feel today 

I don’t know when or if I will see Tasmania again

Unless they send me back at the other side 

I pray this isn’t so

I have been praying lately despite not knowing if it makes a difference 

I just want to feel ok again 

Ok currently feels like swimming through a viscous fluid to some distant shore while wearing weights 

I am surprised by the vague feeling of sadness that leaving is bringing up in me 

I suspect it is because Tasmania has been my home for almost the last half a year and the future is always so uncertain 

Or it may be more of the depression that has been haunting me lately, like a unwanted guest at a picnic 

Everything feels heavy and I feel a marked resistance to life in general 

Like a thief in the night a kind of dread seizes me robbing me of my joy and replacing it with grief and a relentless restlessness for significance and change 

I pray that somehow this feeling will pass soon 

I am unsure who I am praying to or if this is a sign of desperation or delusion

Beneath the anxiety I have been feeling as a background theme I am mildly exhausted  

My eyes feel gritty like there is sand beneath the lids slowly rubbing at the eyeball 

I have not slept properly for too long 

Anxiety produced insomnia is one hell of a drug 

 I chat with my friendly neighbor in the plane about how we are keeping up appearances 

Social distancing at airports only to practically sit in each other’s laps once boarded 

Putting on flimsy masks that make the breath steam our faces not because we all believe it will make a difference, but to be seen to be doing “the right thing”

Whatever that even means these days 

Hand sanitizers are encouraged and announcements remind us to maintain social distance where we can 

 It feels like we are all paying lip service to the gods of Covid 19

As we pull away I enjoy viewing the quiltwork of rolling hills and tractors the size of children’s toys 

Then I am hypnosis’s by the rolling cloud show 

A child on the seat in front loudly expresses and releases the building tension that he feels at being contained in this metal pen in order to travel

Then at some point he settles

Then we play peekaboo games and eye gaze till he becomes distracted by other things 

He has beautiful chocolate eyes and pointy canines 

I enjoy the interactions and the genuine expression of life that shines through his open face 

He is a playful and inquisitive monkey boy 

His mother is tired but loving 

She struggles to contain him in his seat 

I am reminded that containing children in seats is a difficult task

Almost as hard as organising a group of hippies 

Monkey boy loves touch and physical exploration

After a period of play I remove my mask on occasion to smile with more than just my eyes 

His open face makes me feel like I don’t want to be hiding in my mask 

I wonder how and if both of us are being shifted slightly by the exchange 

I wonder what he sees when he looks into my eyes

Does he see the fear and sadness that have been my play pals of late? 

I am offered a choice of 3 different sugared products I didn’t know I paid for all containing egg, gluten and canola

Something for the whole family 

Nurturing good heath I see…

I eat the banana bread despite my belief last night that I would eat better today than I have been doing lately

I don’t know why I eat at all because I have no appetite 

Why do I always take what I am offered to eat?

Is this connected to my childhood?

When I was forced to eat what was on my plate? 

Or is it part of this social polite paradigm I play into?

I struggle to understand and come to terms with my own hypocrisy