swimming
After finishing 2 days of swim teacher training at the pool, I drove to Seven Mile Beach, wrapped up in just a towel around my swimmers. It was the first time there since the infamous car window smash attack, which happened 2 years ago and shattered my thin resources when I’d just moved here.
This time round, being there was like discovering a secret suburb. I saw Noah on the beach, pulling his daughter and 2 other kids around on a body board, his daughter dictating directions and effort required by him. Hi, he said casually, as though he’d always been expecting me there. P was off walking the dog, and I walked to one end of the beach, past a green boat shed to try and find her. Where the rocks began was a dirt path up into the headland, I guessed she was along this track but could not be bothered trying to find her. Instead I returned to the beach, realising that P was part of a gang at the beach. Jane was there, a mum that I’d met at Noah’s house, and the parents of the 2 boys, Andy and Kylie, now living in separate houses, plus another Andrew (all these Andy’s, very confusing) who had just moved down to do his MFA. How cool, an artist.
I was introduced to Andy No 1 first, who recognised me from bookshop I frequent, and he works at part time. That was nice, and I was invited back to join everyone for a barbecue. The yellow house was great, a cute little 2 storey cottage, very small and compact, slightly shack-like, very homey, filled with lots of artworks by grown ups and children. For ages we sat around and talked, whilst food was prepared, and the youngest boy tried to tag me. Arkie was his name, but when I tagged him back he corrected me: You should call me Arkady. Like Fergus, he was going through a “real name” stage of life (he’s four and a half). Arkady was very sociable and requested my help in getting a ball blown up, which led me to starting a game of catch that Andrew and I and all the little kids played (apparently after I left it changed from being a nice game to “torture Xavier”, Xavier being his big brother). Later on I was visited by Arkady again, to help him put a dress on (he was a joker in the kids play), had it not been for me he would have had his head in the arm hole… he also wanted to play tennis with me and cricket, cricket being his new obsession… I am now all sore and worn out from these escapades.
What surprised me was to discover that the other grown ups at this barbecue had been living here less time than me; it opened my eyes to the different ways in which we settle in and try to make a home, and something about not living your life on hold…
This time round, being there was like discovering a secret suburb. I saw Noah on the beach, pulling his daughter and 2 other kids around on a body board, his daughter dictating directions and effort required by him. Hi, he said casually, as though he’d always been expecting me there. P was off walking the dog, and I walked to one end of the beach, past a green boat shed to try and find her. Where the rocks began was a dirt path up into the headland, I guessed she was along this track but could not be bothered trying to find her. Instead I returned to the beach, realising that P was part of a gang at the beach. Jane was there, a mum that I’d met at Noah’s house, and the parents of the 2 boys, Andy and Kylie, now living in separate houses, plus another Andrew (all these Andy’s, very confusing) who had just moved down to do his MFA. How cool, an artist.
I was introduced to Andy No 1 first, who recognised me from bookshop I frequent, and he works at part time. That was nice, and I was invited back to join everyone for a barbecue. The yellow house was great, a cute little 2 storey cottage, very small and compact, slightly shack-like, very homey, filled with lots of artworks by grown ups and children. For ages we sat around and talked, whilst food was prepared, and the youngest boy tried to tag me. Arkie was his name, but when I tagged him back he corrected me: You should call me Arkady. Like Fergus, he was going through a “real name” stage of life (he’s four and a half). Arkady was very sociable and requested my help in getting a ball blown up, which led me to starting a game of catch that Andrew and I and all the little kids played (apparently after I left it changed from being a nice game to “torture Xavier”, Xavier being his big brother). Later on I was visited by Arkady again, to help him put a dress on (he was a joker in the kids play), had it not been for me he would have had his head in the arm hole… he also wanted to play tennis with me and cricket, cricket being his new obsession… I am now all sore and worn out from these escapades.
What surprised me was to discover that the other grown ups at this barbecue had been living here less time than me; it opened my eyes to the different ways in which we settle in and try to make a home, and something about not living your life on hold…
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