A Wheelbarrow of Limes
On chronic suspicion and hyper-vigilance.
We went for a little drive the other day and passed a wheelbarrow full of limes.
A sign read ‘Limes: 5 for $2.’
We circled back and I hopped out to buy some. When I looked closely at them, I realised they were…maybe C grade limes. I’m no citrus expert. And I also have very low standards. But I’m just saying for the purposes of this piece - they weren’t prize winning limes.
I looked over at the little bucket left there to put your money in.
It was cable tied to the wheelbarrow.
On the very top there was a little note written in black marker.
It read, ‘Please place your money in here. (THERE ARE CAMERAS!!!)’
I looked up at the enormous house behind the commanding front fence.
I obediently took my tiny $2 coin (somehow seeming smaller today than any other day) and in some kind of Mr Bean-esque display, I lifted it into the air slowly and obviously (in full view of the front gate) before carefully aiming it into the coin hole.
It was the plan all along.
I had the coin in my hand ready.
I was suitably excited to buy road side limes from a wheelbarrow.
To support somebody’s zingy side hustle.
But all of a sudden I felt a little naughty.
As though I was in trouble for a crime I had no intention of committing.
As I climbed back into the car, I did a little sarcastic commenting on how I hoped my $2 really eased the painful hardships of being filthy rich. That I truly hope it helped them with the humble purchase of their next purebred horse. That I hope it took the edge off the offensive price of caviar.
Once I got that off my chest, I felt into what was really bothering me.
Atmosphere.
Because there was a change in the air around the wheelbarrow once I realised I wasn’t trusted with the exchange.
It made me wonder…are there actually C grade lime thieves on the loose? Are limes their only fetish? Is there a strike force team on this? Should I be booby-trapping my lemon tree? Am I a C grade lime thief?
And look - I know you can’t judge a person by their house. And it could have been their kid’s lime stall. They could have things going on that I have no idea about.
But as a society - I just feel like this whole thing is getting out of hand.
The paranoia feels suffocating.
The constant vigilance.
The fortresses we make our houses into with our impenetrable fences.
The surveillance cameras on every building.
The suspicion with which we approach people we haven’t met yet.
The lengths we go to to protect our stuff.
Threatening notes on a surplus of limes.
And I get it. The scammers be scamming. The thieves be thieving.
There’s kidnappers and violent people and danger. It’s all legitimately terrifying sometimes.
In a fit of frustration when Halo wouldn’t listen to me about not playing in our front yard by herself recently (there’s no gate - just a straight path onto the road), I threw a - ‘Because you could get stolen!’ at her.
Well. You better believe I have regretted that ever since. She is now petrified of anyone and everyone who walks past the house. I’ve tried to backtrack. To explain that most people are good and kind and friendly, and would help her if she needed it. But that it’s my responsibility to keep her safe and if I can’t see her in the front yard, then I can’t do that job very well.
None of it has worked to ease her nerves.
Sometimes it’s like my mind is screaming, CHILD ABDUCTION at the same time my heart is whispering, ‘The world is good.’
The tension is confusing.
To offer a child freedom and exploration in a broken world seems somehow both profoundly necessary, and potentially catastrophic. I would love for her to explore the front garden on her own. She loves it out there. But I can’t bring myself to let her venture out without attentive eyes on her. A non-negotiable for me.
I’m digressing a little. There’s a big difference between the safety of my first born child and the security of $2 (pretty shoddy) limes…
But it’s the atmosphere that I keep coming back to. The energy that emanates from within us to form the air we’re all breathing.
Is it fear and mistrust?
Is it suspicion?
Is it necessary in this moment under these circumstances?
Is it stealing moments that could have been neutral and tainting them anxious?
What will happen if you don’t write the note?
What will happen if you lower your fences?
What will happen if you don’t put cameras on your front gate?
Maybe somebody takes the limes. Maybe their whole world was imploding and things were as rough as they could get. Maybe seeing a wheelbarrow full of limes was the first moment in weeks that they felt relief. Maybe they have no idea what to even use a lime for, but just the presence of food brought comfort.
Are your fences worth nobody getting in?
We don’t live in small, familiar communities anymore.
There are more strangers than friends on any given day that we leave the house.
It’s a big old mystery out there.
But amidst the anonymity and disconnectedness, there is a world of possibility.
There are friendships just waiting to happen.
There are people desperate for help, and an abundance of help is out there.
Not every person you don’t know is plotting against you.
Most of the people you haven’t met yet are eating dinner around a table just like you tonight.
The food might be different.
The company might be different.
The language might be different.
The dynamics might be different.
The size of the table might be different.
But they’re probably brushing their teeth and running their hands through their hair to see how many more days they can go before washing it.
They’re probably lying awake worrying about their wildest family member.
They probably groan and hit snooze of a morning, just like you do.
They probably aren’t going to steal your limes.
And if they do…what will happen?
What will the atmosphere be?
Anger and disgust?
Or grace and acceptance?
We hold the sacred power of making that choice.
What an exciting opportunity.
x
Lysette