I feel as though time has stood still since my last trip; my red mug with the white hearts is still in the cupboard where I left it on my last trip. I like a bucket of tea first thing and the sister I stay with likes her delicate Zhandra Rhodes china tea cup. That about sums up the essential difference between us, I have always been a shit or bust person, more is always not enough and she is more careful and measured in her approach to life. . Ceramic mug versus delicate bone china. Pearl earrings versus gypsy hoops, one gold link bracelet against six chunky silver and bone clangers. Everyone knows when I am about, they hear me before they see me.
It always takes a bit of time to find the pulse, vibe whatever of the family when we reconnect. We would like to think that we just slot back into family cosiness but it is not so. There are always underlying tensions, minor resentments that can not yet be voiced, little power struggles. I am the only one who lives still in the UK. All the others have migrated to Queensland, starting with my older brother on one of the last of the ten pound tickets and the migration concluding with my then 61 year old mother who finally left the Uk in 1981 with my then 15 year old baby sister. Baby is now all growed up and 46. She is a mother, a teacher a poet and a regular pain in the arse!! I can say that because she is my baby sister and I love her so. Her babies are now 16 and 14.
So two sisters and assorted nephews and nieces are waiting this tired traveller at Brisvegas Airport. One cold beer stuck straight away into my hand. This tradition stays fast after initiation almost 30 years ago when I nearly always "Flt a 4X comin' on". It is evening, it is emotional and the drive home is one noisy hum of five people all wanting to be heard now now now me me me. We will settle down but not for a while.
My mother is diminshished in body but not in spirit. She is 2 years frailer but fighting it. She is emotional, her oldest female chick is back in the fold. She is loving me tonight and will tomorrow but by next week she will be silently wishing me back in the UK as I hide the Jamesons and lie "No thanks, don't fancy a drink tonight" I will say, gagging for a glass of red and a fag. Maybe behind the bike shed if I can find a bike shed. What would the neighbours say if they saw me puffing and sipping? "That must be the one from England".
Brisbane is beginning to heal from the recent horrors of flood and the near miss of a cyclone. The river is foul but has subsided its banks still angry and scarred from the beating they took. The ground is lush and springy not the usual February hard baked brown scrub, over cooked from ten years of hard drought. The country has made the people here and not the other way around. Generations of living at the hands of a harsh task master, the climate has shaped the humour and built the backbone of a people now well equipped to rebuild their lives, properties and businesses after a flood of near biblical proportions. Noah had only 40 days, this past year these Queenslanders had nearly 90 days of constant rain.
My home for the next few weeks will be with my sister CF who is fifth in the pecking order, she was our beautiful baby for years until the menopause presented my folks with no ordinary flush but a royal flush in the form of J (the poet pain in arse kid). CF is the grown up, the adult, a pocket sized powerhouse who really is the glue in our binding.The rest of us may be pages and chapters, even a verse or two but she really is the essence of the whole book. She is not only the glue in the binding but the stitching of the pages. She is the one who keeps all the shit together. Without her my mother would have died years ago unable to live on her own. CF moved to a larger house to accommodate Big Mama's needs and opened her home and her heart to a somewhat crotchety woman who was fighting ageing every step of the way. Divorced with two sons and a Day Care business run from home she created an independent living space for Big Mama and sat back and waited until it was BM's idea to move in!!
Now mother has her own space which we all pretend she is capable of running herself but we just play along. We all know that without CF mother could not function. CF has to be bad cop, the one who remembers the medications, doctor/hospital/appointments, booking of holidays, the one who scoops up the frail woman who has fallen for the umpteenth time from the wearing of unsuitable shoes or the last glass or red she should not have poured ; the shopping, the dry cleaning, the relentlessness of 24 hour care while trying to preserve an element of calm and peace inside her own head. It is wearing having to think always in the future, to be ten steps ahead of every programme, to have eyes in the back of her head looking after a woman who does not really accept that she needs looking after. The one who has to find the hearing aids, the glasses, the purse, the keys, the remote controls, that one special sweater she MUST wear, the lipstick she is sure she still has, the money for church which she ALWAYS keeps in the same place. It is hard to have to supress the irritation which is natural to feel but maybe unkind to voice. Mother cannot help getting old any more than I can help not accepting getting older.
Whilst I can swan in and out of this scenario CF has it all the time. The other five of us do not live with this and the to date unmentioned brothers (bar one) dip in and out more or less at will with little commitment to the woman who gave them birth. They don't seem to have of the feelings of responsibility that we girls, in varying degrees, have. Geography defines my family involvement and I like to think I have helped in my own way, albeit sometimes from a distance. Baby sis lives a few streets away and has two children, teaches full time and has a busy life. She would probably say that she pulls her weight but her deep inner conscience would tell her the truth. She does not have the inner resources or the time to be of as much real help as she wants. She can swing by and does take the odd shift of responsibility but not in proportion to the needs of the situation. She is more likely to go and cook for the homeless than she is to just sit with mother, hold her hand, do her nails etc. There is little glory in family and hereby lies the great difference between her and her older sister CF who is the carer who is not a glory seeker.
It is impossible to compare the two other sisters. J, the royal flush, was only 10 when our father died and in my mind she has in many ways remained the baby I nursed as mother recovered from a C section and a hysterectomy. She has forged a great career in Oz, also now a single mother with attendant responsibilities and sadnesses that she has to deal with, her time cannot be split like the atom even if the desire was there.
LATER -AUTUMN 2011
I sit here contemplating another visit within the next few weeks and wonder what this trip holds. I am ageing, my body is beginning to let me down, partially the result of a misspend youth and also a degenerative spinal condition which sees me facing a fusion on my return from this trip. What help can I be? How long can I stay? How will I fit in this time? How can I justify not staying longer.
I think it is too late to think about this right now. Dawn is about to break and so am I if I don't get off to the wonderful bed which awaits me. I will think on tomorrow and perhaps evaluate again. Where am I going wrong? Why can't I join my family? What holds me back?
It is impossible to compare the two other sisters. J, the royal flush, was only 10 when our father died and in my mind she has in many ways remained the baby I nursed as mother recovered from a C section and a hysterectomy. She has forged a great career in Oz, also now a single mother with attendant responsibilities and sadnesses that she has to deal with, her time cannot be split like the atom even if the desire was there.
LATER -AUTUMN 2011
I sit here contemplating another visit within the next few weeks and wonder what this trip holds. I am ageing, my body is beginning to let me down, partially the result of a misspend youth and also a degenerative spinal condition which sees me facing a fusion on my return from this trip. What help can I be? How long can I stay? How will I fit in this time? How can I justify not staying longer.
I think it is too late to think about this right now. Dawn is about to break and so am I if I don't get off to the wonderful bed which awaits me. I will think on tomorrow and perhaps evaluate again. Where am I going wrong? Why can't I join my family? What holds me back?
