Day Three

I can't seem to help waking up with the kookaburras at 4:30a.m. I don't mind though, because I get some time to myself to write and email people. When the sun does come up it is a clear, beautiful morning, my first with out rain, and I am dazzled by the brightness of the day.




















My Mum's house has a lovely summer cottage feeling, with really high (12 foot?) ceilings, smooth floorboards and a central hall which runs all the way from the front porch to the kitchen. It reminds me of the house my grandparents lived in in Bendigo, before they moved up here, and that probably adds to how happy I feel wandering around in it.




















Out by the clothesline this morning - the pesky yet entirely exotic ibis, picking his way through the grass. They are everywhere here, in parks, yards, parking lots and trash cans. No-one but me stops to admire them walking down the middle of the road.















Today Mum and I borrowed her friend Brad's 'ute' - short for utility truck I guess - and drove to Tweed where we picked up a table she had bought and went on to have lunch with my Nana. It was wonderful to see her - she is one of those people of course who my earliest memories go back to, and with whom I associate absolutely unconditional love. She is quiet and retiring, afraid to say something silly, but in a while, as Mum and I chat away, she warms up and starts telling us stories of my Dad and his brothers when they were boys, and of her own girlhood. She has a shy, open smile which I love to see.















She doesn't at all want her picture taken but with good grace agrees to stand with me for one. I couldn't be happier when she slips her arm about me. This is my first visit after my Grandpas death, and I see his framed picture on top of the shelf above the fridge, and just visible behind it, the urn holding his ashes. I get a lump in my throat, I want to see him sitting in his chair spilling his lunch cheerfully onto his belly and patting his colostomy bag as it rumbles, telling it loudly to 'keep it down' so badly it hurts.















We have to dash away in time to get the ute back to Brad, and leave with promises for another lunch. I might even go have a sleepover next week. The road home offers wonderful views of Wollumbin, the Cloud Eater, a sacred mountain for the Aboriginal people.















I'm on the phone with my Dad who leaves for Hong Kong tomorrow, when I see the light outside on the trees is deep pink. When I go to look, this is the sunset that spreads itself across the sky at Mum's back gate, Wollumbin silhouetted against the sky.