I hear the humming of the fridge through the silence of the morning. The city is quiet. It is still asleep. Yesterday, everyone seemed to be out of isolation. Restaurants were packed again. The streets were crowded again. There were kids on their skateboards again. Wellington has had come alive after a month of solitariness. People were confined in their homes as the protest against mandating vaccines took over our streets, forcing schools to close down and study from home and offices to shut their doors. Residents would take a longer route or try to be as invisible as they could passing through the desperate mob.
Today, there is none of any of that. Not the party music blaring through the open windows of our student neighbors. Not the warnings of emergency sirens passing through traffic. Not the uncontrollable laughter of friends drunk as they hopped from one pub to another. There was none of that heavy energy carried by the protest dimming the carefree vibe of Wellington. None of the unnecessary reminders of freedom that we never lost anyway. None of that today.
Just the humming of the fridge and my husband’s sleepy breathing. Silence. No. Actually, peace. There was silence as Wellingtonians stayed safe in their homes the past month, but the air was thick, it was heavy to navigate through. Today, there’s lightness in the air through this silence. Everyone’s just asleep. It feels peaceful. I hope for the same for those in war today. I hope they would feel the peace many around the world are still privileged to have.
