Before the wrinkles set in place
BEFORE THE WRINKLES SET IN PLACE
Written & Published by Lydia Rees
Talofa hunnies. Ya girl was feeling inspired randomly in the shopping centre. So with as many typos as one can possible leave in, sit back, grab a bevvy, relax and have a read
———————————————————————-
My parents were just two middle class workers who made the brave move from Samoa to Australia in hopes for a better life for us kids. I was privileged enough to have both parents, alive and active in my life, so I know not everyone can relate. We were far from rich but also far from poor, perfectly centred at middle class. They made sure we had just enough to get by, food or none, money or none, when the sun rose and set again in the evening, we still had each other.
Age 9, when my family took a trip to the beach as we often did, we reached a section of the rocks where you had to walk through a lower path of rushing water to get to the other rock. It’s harder to explain in words without a visual so bare with me. Me and my younger brothers were too little (yes there was a time where I was considered small lol) to cross and so my dad picked me and one brother up in each arm, and propped another one of my brothers on his back. He walked so easily through the raging waters and I remember digging my face into his neck to avoid locking eyes with the unforgiving waters. My grip was firm and my mind was so sure we won’t be harmed because we were in the arms of the strongest man in the world. He walked straight through, careful with each step but even more careful with how he held us three.
Age 11, living out in Menangle Park, a quiet farmers town where the population was matched by the number of horses and cattle. Life was good, easy, I was in year 6 getting ready to move into big school so change was normal. Every morning I would wake up from my mums scream echoing through the halls for us to get ready for school “gogofo I luga saugi mo le aoga”. My dad would already be at work having left the night before when we were safely tucked in bed. Mum would get us kids ready for school in the morning, uniforms already in place, lunches made, breakfast to go and then the school drop offs. 1 to The Guardian Angel Pre School, 2 to Claymore Public School, 1 to Campbelltown Performing Arts, and the last at St Gregory’s Private School. And then musters up some reserved energy, and takes herself to work. In the car I would look at her from the backseat of our van and think “wow she does it all so easily”.
Age 12. My family took a trip out to this old lake near Menangle Park on a spring day. We loaded up the van and headed off to find this beauty of a swimming hole that the local spoke so highly of. We find the spot, and head straight in. Us kids swam around joyously as mum and dad floated in the next pool over, relaxed. I remember my dad calling me over and saying in samoan “we still have so much time together for your mum and I to teach you lots of things. However one day, mum and I won’t be around forever, and you will just have to remember all the things we taught you, so you can apply it when you have your own family. We look after you now, you look after us where’re old”. I didn’t pay much attention to these words as my dad had a few glasses of wine prior, maybe they were just drunken words, maybe they were wise words...
The teen years come and go in heart beat, but oh my gosh my parents are embarrassing. No I don’t want you to kiss me on every school drop off. Actually just drop me off to the start of the street and I’ll walk the rest of the way. Actually just drop me off at the bus stop and I’ll catch the bus to school. Why do you need to hang out with me and my friends at the store, I’m old enough. Can I have some money to go to the shops with my friends? Why not? You work the whole week and you have no money left ? I’m going to start working. Why do you need money from my pay? What do you mean rego? What do you mean rent? Why do I need to pay for it? Can you buy me these shoes? Why not? Everyone in school has them. Can you drop me off to my friends house in Penrith? Why are you tired?
Age 17. Age 18. 19. 20. These years drift by too quick to realise that life keeps on moving, whether we want it to or not. Whether we embrace it or not. Whether we appreciate it or not. It just keeps. On. Moving. Dragging our body clocks along with it like a dead corpse.
The world gets clearer as each day passes. I still don’t want you to kiss me when you drop me off but thank you for dropping me off each day without complaint. Actually, drop me off to the gates so my friends can meet you. I don’t want you to hang with me and my friends at the mall because I’d rather just you and I. Don’t worry about dropping me off to my friends house because you taught me how to drive and paid for me to get my license. Instead I will drive you where ever you need to go no matter how far. I also know what rego is so I gladly help pay for it as it allows me to use the car. I got the job, thank you for supporting me and believing in me when no one else did. You don’t need to tell me you need money because my heart is already willing to share that blessing. I already have shoes, I don’t need to be following a trend when we have bills due next month.
I’m learning. Slowly. But surely. You’ve taught me to appreciate your presence over the years but at what cost?
It starts with a wince of pain.
It moves on to the sore joints. Perhaps a reoccurring tooth ache and the occasional migraine. Their knees gradually weaken. Feet are always sore. Back always feels out of place. Hands don’t have the strength to carry in the shopping bags. Arms are too weak to reach the top shelf in the kitchen so we pack the groceries on the bottom / middle shelves. Voices are weaker so the hallways grow more quiet as time passes. The medicine collection grows bigger and the doctor check ups are more often.
You see, as kids, the idea of losing our parents never crosses our minds because they are literally there to guide you through every step, every phase, every attitude, every moment in your life, they stand firm by yourself. In a world of uncertainty, they always remain the same. Unchanging. Solid. As you grow older you often forget that they too don’t get any younger. Wrinkles slowly set in place around the eyes and corner of the mouth. The eyes grow more and more tired everyday struggling to read small print. I see it. I see a life where I have to live without my parents one day. And I cry. Alone sometimes in my car, in my room.
So I hold my mums hand in the shopping centres. I willingly carry the shopping into the house from the car in one trip. I make lunches for my dad to eat for when he works 12 hour shifts. I greet him with a smile when he returns. I drive to the many places they insist on going to... Because it’s already too late, by the time we’ve realised that time keeps on moving, whether we want it to or not. Whether we have embraced it or not. Whether we have appreciated it or not. It just keeps. On. Moving. Dragging all of our body clocks along with it like a dead corpse.
I carry myself today as an adult who has been taught not only to live, but thrive. My parents have done most of their part, and so I ache waiting for the day I have to do it alone. I want to see their faces everyday when I come home. I want to wake up each morning knowing they’re in the room down the hall. I want to hear samoan music in the kitchen played by my dad, and the garden hose being sprayed onto the plants by my mum on a Saturday morning.
But above anything, I want to be the young girl who is carried in the arms of her father across raging water. I want my mums echoing voice to wake me up, back in 2014, so I can re-do what I failed to do as a daughter.
Comments
Post a Comment