We’ve seen it thousands of times, I’m sure I’m not exaggerating. It glistened in pastoral hues of green. It looked peaceful. It reminded us of the misty hills in the central highlands of Sri Lanka, such as Bandarawela and Nuwara Eliya. This is equally pretty, but perhaps not kissed by the clouds as much, due to low altitude. And it lives right next door.

South Morang is kind of next door to us. A hop and a jump, by car. Five long minutes at most and less than four kilometres from our home. We wished we had taken the winding foot path to the top, visible from a distance, so many times. But didn’t. The reason was self-imposed, I had imposed it; quite innocently, If I have to say so myself. Too close. It was too close.

To feel the full punch of rest and relaxation, the distance had to be greater, time taken, longer. That was my take on the vibe. I passed it to my kids; may be my wife as well. Perhaps an overnight stay somewhere far would have clinched the deal. So I thought. Quite wrongly, now, I think. Now, I’m sure.

Melbourne is in another lockdown, yet again. It started as a snap one; but, might, will extend. It is what it is, it’s easy to resign to this fate, when the intent is to save lives. One of the restrictions, is a five-kilometre radius or range from one’s primary residence.

I feel stuck; my family feels stuck, yet again. We’re in exile, we feel like we’re in exile, at home; thanks to me. I had forged the chains and clapped it on myself. On them.

“Let’s climb that little hill in South Morang, near the lake.”

I was testing the waters, a statement; perhaps even a question.

“Nooo!”

I hear myself in my eldest: my eleven-year-old. I know he’d say too close, next. I didn’t ask. I didn’t have to.

But I can be persuasive; team work helps, as my wife weighed in on the argument; barracking for my cause. The skies were a brilliant blue, rare for a late winter’s day in Melbourne. Staying in would have been a crime. Now, that was logic even my two boys couldn’t argue against.

We were in the car in no time, snacks and water bottles on the ready. We were soon huffing and puffing up beautiful slopes. The kids couldn’t have enough of it, I speak for the parents too. Time was on wings. The bird’s eye view of the surrounding countryside from the summit, the lake that shimmered in the sun; they weren’t ordinary at all. They were special. My neighbourhood was special. Who would have thought. I was shocked.

The sun disappeared, the winds picked up; this was Melbourne after all. The snacks disappeared. We were still at the summit. Finally, we sounded the bell to return.

“Nooo!”

Both of them together now. We could only smile. Do we appreciate the things close by? Do we see the beauty in the mundane? Is there anything really called mundane? I guess there’s a moral here, for myself. I hate to say it, but I needed another lockdown to see it.