Dylan stomped his feet and wriggled so much that Sharon took twice as long as normal to put his sandals on.
“Wait up little man, please stop moving,” she pleaded. Finally she put his hat on and tied the neat blue strings under his chin.
She looked up and locked eyes for a moment with Frank. His eyes were soft and immediately she felt calmer. She took a long breath, pulling air deep into her body. Then through puffed cheeks she sighed the air slowly back out.
“Anyone would think he hadn’t been out in weeks, let alone just yesterday!”
It’d been five hours since Dylan woke them up just before dawn. Five hours of offering him banana pieces and tuna pasta and organic oat porridge and cleaning up the gourmet scatterings from under his high chair. They’d sung Old MacDonald Had a Farm a hundred times, made a tent from sarongs and read the pages of every single one of his favourite books. But he was so restless. Sharon had lost count of how many times he’d walked to the door and whined to be let out.
It was Sunday. She’d had to check her phone to know that; these days every day just merged into the next. They’d decided to go for a special walk, and sneak out a little further than they’d been game to so far. Frank packed salad sandwiches (peanut butter for Dylan), water bottles and the chocolate muffins they’d baked together the day before.
“Come on little Tiger,” Frank laughed and grabbed him up in a big swoop and waltzed him out the door.
They were lucky. In their suburb they could still go out once a day for essential exercise, as long as they stayed within a few kilometres from their house and kept well clear of any air drift from other people.
The autumn sun had lost some of its intensity and the air was crisp. Dylan explored muddy edges of the track and threw stones into puddles. He swung his arms happily and walked in ragged circles, backwards and forwards along the track. A stick poked out from the fence and he grabbed it, drew lines in the dirt, and stopped to bang it on a steel post.
Frank found a couple of sticks and banged them together, creating a funky rhythm. “Dum dum dum, de dum dum dum.” He was too tired to think of any lyrics but Dylan giggled hysterically at his song. Sharon got her phone out and took a video.
“It’s so good to get out,” she said. “I can just feel my muscles relaxing. And cool that Dylan can spend some of his energy.”
Dylan babbled away, sometimes to get their attention to look at this and that. Sometimes just for the fun of it. He seemed to revel in the freedom of exploring all kinds of noises.
The track eventually opened up into a green space, the type that’s set aside by council to save a bit of nature for the residents and wildlife. A park bench and picnic table were at the other end. Dylan saw the steel door on the front of the bbq and headed straight for it. Opening and shutting doors was his latest specialty! Sharon beat him to it and wiped clean everything he could reach. He spent the next ten minutes totally absorbed in the moment, opening and closing the little door.
“Can you imagine? He’s doing all this at 18 months,” Frank said. “And walking so fast now! Every day there’s a new excitement for him or milestone reached.”
Sharon opened her Messenger and sent the video to her mum, who lived in Brighton and hadn’t seen Dylan since before the war against the virus had begun. She sent them to Frank’s parents also. They lived just a few kilometres away and used to mind Dylan one or two days a week before her work had shut down. She didn’t want them to miss out on how much he was changing each day, and knew they missed him dreadfully.
At last Dylan lost interest in the BBQ door and toddled off down the slope. Sharon ran around on the grass with him. They laughed and wrestled and tumbled around. Dylan rolled over her knees, got up and walked behind her, threw himself up and over her back. He giggled and snuggled his face into the back of her neck.
Frank sat back and watched for a while, and took another video.
“Hey mum, dad” he spoke into his phone. “We’re having a fun day out and about today! Wish you could be with us.”
But when he looked at the screen he saw his mum hadn’t been online for an hour. Oh well, he thought, they can see it later.
“Lunch time!” Sharon said, and she unpacked the backpack.
They didn’t notice an older couple walk in from another path in the bush nearby. Didn’t see their faces light up, and then drop abruptly as they stopped in their tracks.
Dylan was walking around while eating his sandwich. He saw them.
His eyes opened wide and he squealed with delight. With his arms stretched out in front of him, he ran towards them. His little legs could hardly keep up with his belly.
The older couple looked at each other. Greg’s forehead wrinkled tight; he rocked back on his feet. Kim held her hand over her mouth. A tear rolled down her cheek.
They both, subconsciously, tilted their bodies and took a step back.
Frank looked up to see where Dylan was off to.
“Mum! Dad! Hey, you ok?” he said automatically, and got up fast.
Sharon took in the situation, and also jumped up and ran to stop Dylan.
Both of them got to him at the same time. Sharon bundled him up into a ball but that just made Dylan squeal and wriggle more. He thought it was a game! He was a strong little toddler, and he pulled his way out and ran off again towards Kim and Greg, who stood there, still dumbstruck.
Frank went after him again and lifted him up. But Dylan swung his whole body back, trying to escape his dad’s grasp, and he reached out for Sharon. He cried. Tried to wriggle his way down. In his entire life he’d only ever known his grandparents to squat down to his height and invite him into their embrace with smiles and kisses.
Now his grandparents stood upright, trying hard to be strong. Their faces belied their stoicism though; worry, confusion, sadness, all twisting and turning in a myriad of expressions within mere seconds. Their mouths were open, but no words came out. Again they took a step back when Frank and Sharon walked, tentatively, just close enough to them so they could talk without having to yell.
It’d only been three weeks but the intense conditioning had obviously washed right through everybody’s psyches already. That morning Sharon had read that the local community centre down the road was going to be transformed into a hospital with 250 more critical care beds for those infected. This nightmare was real. Physical distancing had become a habit, a visceral reaction that occurred without even needing to think it through.
Nonetheless it hurt. Her stomach lurched; she felt faint.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “He doesn’t understand.”
“It’s ok, love,” Greg said. “We have to follow the rules, don’t we. Have to stay apart.”
Kim fumbled for another tissue from her pocket and pressed it to her nose.
“I think it’s best we walk away,” she said. “This is too much for him. And us. I can’t bear it.”
Sharon put her arm around Frank’s waist, and together they cuddled Dylan. He’s crying slowed to a whimper. They all blew each other kisses; Dylan did too. That made them all smile, just a little.
Before car trips had been banned Greg and Kim used to drive out to Trenton Bay each afternoon to walk a spritely five kilometres along the beach. Now their steps wavered, and they held onto each other as they walked slowly back along the track.
Frank and Sharon just stood there and watched them disappear into the trees.
“What the…!” Sharon cried, nearly breaking her rule not to swear in front of Dylan at all during the daily frustration she felt in their shrinking world.
Dylan turned his eyes back from the retreating couple and scanned his mum’s face.
“I’m sorry my baby,” she said. “This is just so hard!”
A man strode out into the green with a German Shepherd dog on a lead. He saw Dylan’s red face and felt the vibe that cut the air.
But Dylan lifted his chin and his eyes opened wide. “Ee aw, eee awww!” he said, and pointed to the big dog.
“Heya,” the man said, through his mask. “Chin up folks, it’s too nice a day to be sad.” And he walked around them in a large arc, the dog loping by his side.
