COMMENT:
New Zealanders were glued to their screens this afternoon as Jacinda Ardern announced our move into alert level 2. It's what we've all been looking forward to for the last couple of weeks.
Today we finally found out when that's happening — and it's not even that far away.
I suspect that, on Thursday, New Zealand will be the happiest country on Earth.
I'm a real homebody and already working from home so lockdown hasn't meant a massive change to my daily routine.
But it hit me where it hurts: in my ability to see the people I love.
The move to level 3 didn't change that. Level 2 is completely different.
Level 2 is the end of the most painful part of isolation: the lack of contact with other humans, missing out on birthdays and other important gatherings.
• Covid19.govt.nz: The Government's official Covid-19 advisory website
From Thursday, with some rules and restrictions, I'll be able to see my friends.
My daughter will be able to see her friends.
Takeaway coffees and meals were a nice step in the right direction but, let's face it, it was never really about the coffee.
Every time I met my friend for a long black, it wasn't really about the long black.
It was for that quick hug when she arrives and the slightly more lingering one before she leaves, and for the chats in between every sip. It was for the chance to tell her she looked nice, in case no one else had told her. It was for the break from my own stories to hear the stories of others.
Every time I met my friend for a beer at the pub, it was never about the beer.
It was for more hugs, for seeing my friend smile, for swapping tales of the week that never seemed to end (oh how little we knew about the slow passing of time). It was so I could be there to listen to their worries and their ideas and their plans.
It was for that feeling that someone you care about cares about you back and that you both take time of your life to exist in the same space and feel the warmth of being human together. And really talk, and really listen, without internet connections or anything else interfering with that.
Zoom has been great but I don't want my friends closed off in their individual squares on my screen. I want to see them in the flesh, even if it's from a safe distance. I want to share our different realities and let them blend, and make sure that our lives, that don't converge all the time, converge sometimes, and we truly connect.
It's been a long six and a half weeks in New Zealand.
It's been six and a half weeks without hugging a friend. Without meeting up with a mate for a coffee or a beer.
A month and a half of drinks on Zoom.
A month and a half since anyone sat in a movie theatre.
Social interactions, not drive-thrus, are at the heart of what makes us human. That's why level 2 is such a big deal.
It was never just about the coffee.
Isolation has had some upsides but I hope we never have to go back to it.
On Thursday, I'll wash my hands and then I'll wash them again. I'll keep my distance. I'll keep note of where I go and who I see. I'll shop local. I'll do my bit. I'll be careful, I'll be kind, and I'll be hopeful that things only get better and not worse.
And my beer glass will get to clink with other beer glasses and I'm convinced that sound is what true joy sounds like.
We'll toast to collectively kicking Covid-19's ass. And to hopefully never ever having to live through a lockdown again.
Broadcaster has written a new book about the joys of getting older.