Sarah Gilbert is a freelance journalist based in Sydney.
With Sydney's temperatures pushing 30 degrees Celsius in early spring, crowds flocked to its famous shoreline, eager to enjoy one of the few pleasures permitted in their locked-down city.
Those lucky enough to live within 5 km of a strip of sand frolicked with nary a compulsory mask in sight. Those less fortunate looked on through gritted teeth, venting their rage on social media as images of crowded beaches hit the news.
Greater Sydney, with about eight million people, has been locked down since late June, when COVID-19 escaped a leaky hotel quarantine system via an unmasked, unvaccinated chauffeur.
Adults and children alike have been confined to their homes unless exercising, shopping for essentials or undertaking jobs in exempted industries.
When the outbreak spread south to Victoria, half the nation went into a protracted lockdown, with COVID-free states like Western Australia and Queensland shutting their borders.
After 18 very lucky COVID free months, the latest outbreak to hit Sydney was a stroke of bad luck. Our first lockdown last year began easing after only seven weeks. The aim of reducing the new virus' burden on hospitals quickly gave rise to the hope that it could be crushed altogether -- and it was.
Sydneysiders were back at the pub by July, and despite a scare here and there, lived an almost obliviously COVID-free existence for nearly twelve months.
But if Australia's good luck -- fresh air, sunny weather and mineral wealth -- is part of the country's self-image, its complacency is part of the national character.
"Australia is a lucky country run mainly by second-rate people who share its luck," wrote Donald Horne in 1964 in his best-known book The Lucky Country, an ironic title that is now but half-remembered, and taken literally.
The pandemic has certainly shown us the limits of our luck, and the mediocrity of many of our leaders. With voters happily going about their COVID-free lives last summer, politicians reveled in the easy victory, failing to prepare for the likely moment when the disease found its way back into the community.
This is no easy transition in a country that has shown little appetite for risk. Rather than vaccinating the country at speed, Canberra bungled the vaccine purchasing process so that most Australians could not access their first dose until the middle of this year.
Even now, despite high takeup rates, we are seven and a half months into a botched vaccine rollout with just 43% population fully vaccinated. Still, with New South Wales set to reach its goal of vaccinating 70% of people over within a week, the end of a very long 100 or so days in lockdown is finally in sight.
Despite the excitement, with Australia having suffered less than 1,300 COVID fatalities, death rates from the disease will inevitably rise. This puts us in the ambivalent position of looking forward to freedom, but fearing its consequences. How many lives should be sacrificed for our liberty?
The political challenge of shepherding the population through this period has called for some very nimble footwork. The same leaders who began the lockdown urging Australians to stay home to protect those we love soon shifted the focus to boosting vaccination takeup. Several legal challenges are now before the courts, launched by the anti-vax brigade.
Prime Minister Scott Morrison, hoping his constituents will forget the vaccine rollout debacle, is busy fanning enthusiasm for an imminent return to business as usual. By November all Australians, the vast majority of whom have been held captive on our commodious island, will finally be able to travel overseas without a government-issued permit, and almost all other restrictions should be lifted around the same time.
Scott Morrison, pictured on June 15: the Australian Prime Minister on Friday announced an 18-month ban on Australians traveling abroad will be lifted from next month, easing one of the toughest COVID-19 restrictions imposed globally. © Reuters Yet Morrison's powers are not unlimited. The truth is that none of us knows what our new normal will look like, nor the impact the free run of COVID will have on political fortunes.
Most Australians have remained untouched by the disease itself, and many remain deeply fearful of it. In a population of 25.7 million we have registered just 105,000 cases. I know only three people who have caught it. The government's calculations and projections seem obscure.
Why, for example, does the 70% target vaccination rate not include the newly eligible 12-16-year-olds? Under-12s are due back in school classrooms by November, with many parents worried about their children becoming sick. I will be urging my septuagenarian father not to climb any ladders over the summer -- emergency departments are certain to be overstretched.
With vaccinations in New South Wales looking sure to hit the 90% for those over 16 by late November, some people think we should be more cautious and wait a while longer before opening up. Many are worried that our freedom will be short-lived; that a population unused to the ravages of COVID will recoil and politicians will jump, locking us down again before Christmas.
Facing an uncertain future, one painful truth is clear enough: the next few months are going to acquaint us with a disease that we all, finally, understand we were never going to be lucky enough to avoid.