I woke, surprisingly refreshed, yesterday morning. After prising our reluctant bodies out of our plane seats and then driving home, we had been in a world of stiffness. A couple of panadeine tablets did the trick and we slept, blissfully unaware for a night.
Throughout the day, I was being tossed around. I had fully intended opening the Gallery. Instead I shied away like a frightened horse. An unexpected visit from the divine Miss George and her partner in crime Mr Burley lifted my spirits. Our usual Friday night dinner at the pub twisted from laughter to tears. Last night, I wept for Dad, for Mum, for my original family and for myself.
My sleep was ravaged by dreams. My jaw is sore from grinding my teeth. The usual joints ache. This morning, in spite of the gloomy weather, I feel more peaceful and less flighty. Better.
I searched for a small photo book Dad had prepared for me a number of years ago. And found it. Dad as a small boy gazing back at me, as a teenager and as a young man. Dad, shirtless and leaning against the railing of the "Lucy Star", in Cairns harbour during World War II. Dad at the helm of the MC "Serenade" which was their home away from home during their fifteen years at the northern tip of the Gold Coast. Mum as a young bride. Mum and Dad, casually and colourfully at ease in front of their villa at Noosaville. As a final touch, I have changed the cover photo. To their final photograph together, both with their wheelie walkers and holding hands. Gold.
So today is another day. Promisingly more serene. And we have our Sundowner this afternoon and evening. So I am going to wear my brightest dress with my brightest shirt and my brightest jewellery. Be filled with pride and happiness in our beloved East End Gallery.
And live in the moment, with my precious memories tucked away in a special compartment within my heart.
...Charlie Brown.
With Dad - 6.12.1980.
Stevie Nicks in full flight.
Remember.
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