Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
The first time I needed to say this was as I felt your gaze like no one before. I could see deep into your soul and somehow feel you connect. I had never felt this before and it was all over too soon. But it needed it to be over because I needed to feel how I did after the blink. I needed to say thank you.
I have been saying thankyou ever since. You stood next to me at the kitchen bench of the old fisherman’s cottage, with no doors or windows until the sun shone through the palms. You had booked a flight out from Cairns that day.
My phone rang later that morning. “I would like to stop in on the way through to the airport. Is that OK?”. I barely managed to drink a small cup of coffee before you were there. Blue jeans, singlet and thongs. Your golden hair was flowing. “Isn’t it a bit warm for jeans?”. Oh yeah, you ares leaving. As you weaved out the window, backing out of the driveway, I wanted to say thank you again.
A change of course was awaiting the first time you called from Melbourne. There were many calls over the next couple of weeks. I paced the garden, a couple of times ankle deep in water from the storms. My phone boiled in my hand.
The next minute I was on the plane south. From the hut on Four Mile Beach to her parents’ unit on Queens’s Rd. “What’s that smell?” said your dad when I served up char-sui pork and vegetables. He managed to give it a go, which was good for his age and background. We were shacking up with your parents and I had bought a one-way ticket.
“let me check for jobs in the area” I said. There were not many jobs in hospitality going in the Melbourne autumn but I got lucky. Ten years down the track, we have two young boys and we have done well. Thank you to your mum and dad for their inspiration and support.
We moved out and back in again after your dad passed away. He won’t have to wonder what his dinner smells like anymore. Thank you for helping me get to where I am and for you letting me help you get to where you are.