Faded Photograph

I’ve always been restless since I was a kid, to settle near drives me insane. I’ll just throw together the best that I can what I own and be gone again. Boxes long packed I had stacked in a shed, are obsolete, so I feel that I have to lighten my load for my road ahead, then discover an old photograph. Stopped in my tracks, I sit on the bench; I look deeply into the face. My eyes go all misty as I travel back, to a little old weatherboard place. Where I remember the warmth in the kitchen, on those cold and wet winter nights. Hot steaming soup; the open wood fire, and the flickering kerosene lights. How the family was close knit together. We hadn’t even heard of T.V. Chatting while eating our Sunday roast; neighbour visits for hot scones and tea. Bare footed we ran through the paddocks, seeking out mud or a puddle. If we came down with an ailment, the remedy - a kiss and a cuddle. Patched up were my breeches and socks. Most ‘jumpers’ were ‘hand me down’. I was so proud of my ‘new’ clothes; showing everyone who came around. Rabbit was our staple diet. Trapped in the bush at the back of our home. ‘Chooks’ we kept for the eggs; only eaten if we killed one of our own. Blinking, I came back to earth; took a breath and so pleased to find, what I believed was forgotten, is deeply entrenched in my mind. Dormant I wait for the moment. Something releases memories I have. A tear falls and darkens a spot, on Mother’s faded photograph.