July 10

Earth to Avoca

life already lies to my son
and part of me aches to lift the drawbridge to it
post sentries against the shadows
already Trojan-horsing around inside the walls

just a tiny footfall down from grace.
he knows nothing of syringes (the burns ward forgotten)
nothing of the metallic scent of blood (just the odd split lip)
and murder is a squashed mozzie in the bathroom

in the house starring nightly in his bed
tomorrow we fly to Nebula XF 182
for him closer than Avoca Beach
the car a spaceship he expertly pilots

for him Babar the Elephant lives
Thomas the Tank Engine talks
and it’s only a matter of time
before a panda appears in the bamboo

“My patience, resolutions and beliefs are tested to the limits – sometimes daily.”^*

Right at this moment one of my challenges is the constant, tuneless whistling from my elder son. When my boys were babies it was getting them to sleep or trying to figure out why they were crying. On any given day now, it might be squabbling, fighting, teasing, screaming, shouting or rudeness. Who’d be a parent? We might well question ourselves after the event, but we can’t very well put them back! Just how we find those inner resources, how we constantly demand more of ourselves, how we keep marching up that hill with a smile on our face and gladness in our heart at the sight of our ‘babies’ is one of life’s mysteries.

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