All I wanted was to hug her on her birthday, look into her blue eyes and tell her that nothing in my life has been as precious as being her mum. But when our daughter turned 21 on Friday, none of us could be with her – not me, not her sister, not her dad.
More than 20 months since Covid-19 first reached us here in Australia, we are more restricted than ever. Nearly two thirds of the country is in lockdown, our lives and livelihoods in jeopardy and our tempers fraying.
So we watched our daughter – at university three hours away in Canberra – open her presents via Zoom. Technology may be helpful but it’s no way to mark a milestone birthday. She cried as she read a letter from her Nana in New Zealand. ‘When will I see you?’ she said quietly to herself. Sadly, none of us can say.
When our daughter turned 21 on Friday, none of us could be with her – not me, not her sister, not her dad. (Pictured, Angela Mollard and her daughter on her daughters 19th birthday)
While the rest of the world is opening up, we are shackled by stay-at-home orders and shut off from the world with no end in sight.
Australia, remember, closed its borders in a bid to remain entirely free from the disease. At first it worked.
For many, life went on pretty much as normal thanks to our strict Zero Covid response – and how pleased with ourselves we were.
But that was then. Now, businesses are going to the wall, police are patrolling the beaches in helicopters and on horses, and frustrated citizens are protesting, snitching on each other and tutting if someone gets too close in the supermarket.
The virus is spreading fast, almost no one is immune and just 17 per cent of the population has been fully jabbed. You can only leave your house to do essential work, shop for groceries, exercise or seek medical attention – we’re like the UK was in spring last year.
The military has been brought in to help the police enforce orders. Fines for breaches are hefty. Failure to wear a compulsory mask is to invite public scorn.
We’re as trapped as a koala in a bush fire.
The only way out, we’re told, is vaccination, but Australia’s so-called ‘strollout’ is mired in supply issues and poor messaging – not to mention apathy and outright resistance.
I’m counting the months since I last saw my daughter, but it might be years before I get to see my parents in New Zealand, my brother in Japan and my nieces in Wales.
Even one of Australia’s most popular breakfast television hosts, whose job description requires him to be the cheery face of the nation, gave up the pretence on Friday.
Australia, remember, closed its borders in a bid to remain entirely free from the disease. At first it worked. (Pictured, Angela Mollard and her daughter aged 5 on Manly Beach)
He summed up the thoughts of the nation, saying he was ‘over it’ and just wanted to go to the footie where he wanted to ‘have three meat pies and 45
