Endings and Beginnings

As she drove down the road to her old family home and dairy farm, the familiar feelings of happiness started to creep in, and for a few moments, she allowed herself to reflect on her thoughts that her parents were still in the Old Queenslander, waiting for her to come home.   Her mind goes back to those days of anticipation of what was to come.  Picture if you can a big farm house, and through the gate to the house she would go, past the old laundry with the cement tubs still intact.  Her mum would be in the kitchen, putting the kettle on for afternoon tea, cake and sao biscuits on the table.  She would hug her mum, and even now can still feel her soft cheeks and lovely mother smell.  The children would run in to give their grandma a great big cuddle, before racing out the door to check out the chickens and farm animals. 

Dad would come in from the dairy, with a cheery hello, his old farm hat perched crookedly on his head, his hands rough from working on the land. 

The house has a big hallway for the kids to run up and down, right out to the front veranda.    Running along one side of the veranda was mum’s garden bed full of flourishing geraniums and agapanthus. 

Sitting proudly on the mantelpiece were photographs of her two sisters who passed away when very young, two beautiful girls, in summer dresses and straw hats, smiling confidently into the camera.   What grief her parents must have felt, rarely mentioned but always remembered.

And now, here she is again, walking through the gates, past the old laundry, and up the stairs to the kitchen.  The house is eerily quiet, memories surface to the day she found him, sitting on his old chair on the veranda.  He had looked contently asleep, but as she went to him, she could see he had gone to join his beautiful “brown-eyed girl” and his two precious girls in heaven.  His heart had been heavy and the feeling of tiredness and loneliness was overwhelming.   He had been taking a trip down memory lane, going through the old Glory Box, finding letters, photos and lastly, wrapped in pink ribbon, a bundle of cards and letters, mementoes of his two precious girls.  It was all just too much for him to bear; his last breath was a release for him, allowing him to join the lovely “brown-eyed girl” and his two girls in heaven.  She had closed the Glory Box and had sat beside him for a while, knowing she too would open the box somday to go through her parent’s mementos when she felt strong enough to do so. 

A young couple, with two little girls, had bought the house.  She had been told they had lost everything in the recent bush fires, and were looking for a new start.  They had no possessions or furniture, so she sold the furniture with the house.

All that was left to do was clean out all the cupboards.  The remnants of over fifty years of marriage were to be boxed up; she would send the bulk to the local Thrift Shop, keeping a few pieces of sentimental value. 

The kitchen was first, she began taking the crockery carefully from the old fashioned kitchen cabinet, these were her parents “day to day” cups and saucers, plates and glassware.  She carefully wrapped them in newspaper, placing them in the Thrift Shop box, somewhere in her memory she remembered drinking tea from those cups too. 

There were oddments in the cutlery drawer, nothing here she needed to keep, but she would not dispose of these to the bin, maybe someone would buy them to use in their kitchens. 

The china cabinet in the lounge room held some of her mother’s prized possessions; they were the very old bone china cups, saucers and afternoon tea plates that had been given to them when they married.   She would keep some of these, but others which she knew were not kept by her mum for sentimental purposes were wrapped in the paper, and put in the Thrift Shop box. 

On the table there were photos of their wedding day, her mother looking glamorous in her white gown with the shimmering train.  Aunts and uncles seemed to merit a place on the table, as well as her own wedding photos, there in all their glory.  She had always given her parents photos of her own children as they were growing up, there seemed to be a lot of school photos adorning the table.  But the most precious were the photos of her parents’ first born girls, both had died when very young, and although they spoke of them rarely, there was not a day gone by they did not grieve for them.   The photos would all go home with her, special keepsakes never to be disposed of.

She wandered into the big old fashioned bathroom, complete with the old fashioned bathtub with bear claw feet.  In the corner of the room were big cupboards full of linen, sheets, towels, and a few well-worn bedspreads, still in good condition.  These she folded neatly and placed in the Thrift Shop boxes.

All the bedrooms had been left as they were when her father had passed away; she had already stripped the bed linen off the beds, washed them all and had placed them in the linen cupboard, so there was nothing to do in those rooms.

The lovely old dressing tables were still in the same place as they had been when she was a child; she had polished them till then shone.  She would have loved to have taken them to her house, but there was not room for any more furniture.  She was told the young couple would be delighted to have them, as their furniture could not be saved before the fire took hold of their home.

She did find, however, in her parents’ bedroom, the Glory Box her mother had brought with her when she married.  She knew it held all her parents’ keepsakes, letters, and mementos of her two little sisters.  She did not open it, better to be at home where she could take her time to go through the box and savour the memories of her parent’s lives.

At last, she was finished, she was surprised there was so little in the rubbish boxes.  She disposed of the rubbish, and packed all the other boxes and the Glory Box into her car.  As she drove up the road, away from the Old Queenslander, her heart was heavy; the tears rolling down her face were blinding her of the road.  She stopped for a few minutes, crying softly, grief heavy in her heart.  It would be the last time she would travel this road.  A little calmer, she continued on her trip home.  She hoped the young couple moving in would love the Old Queenslander as she and her family had.

The final countdown had begun, only few days now till the young family would move into the Old Queenslander.  She knew they would make a life for themselves there, bringing it back to its magnificent self.  She had carried the Glory Box out to her veranda, to at last go through the box, hoping she would be able to cope with memories it would bring.  As she opened the box, the nostalgic scent of times gone by came rushing out.   She reached inside, taking out the contents one by one, letters, photos, gingerly untying the pink ribbon from the precious contents of her sisters lives.  It would take a long time to absorb what she had found in the Glory Box, but at last it had a home now, her home, and her memories of her parents and the old Queenslander were stored safely inside.

………………..

The bushfires had been relentless in their thirst for anything in their path.  The young couple, with their two young children, had taken refuge in the local town hall, praying and hoping the fire would spare their home and belongings.  Once it was all over, they ventured back to their home to find it was now a mass of blackened wood, their possessions burnt beyond recognition.  They sobbed tears of despair, wondering how they would ever start again to rebuild their future.

The town rallied around the people who had lost everything, temporary homes were found, and the long road to cleaning up their blackened blocks of land had begun.  The young couple had eventually completed this chore, the remnants of their home bulldozed and sent to the local dump.   They were one of the lucky ones, they had insurance, and with the sale of the land and the insurance money, they were able to start looking for a new home.  The real estate agent had said there was a lovely Old Queenslander that had just come up for sale, furniture included.  Upon seeing the home, they fell in love with it, the big kitchen seeming cool in the summer, and warm in the winter once the old rayburn stove was lit.  The young man could see renovations would be needed, but was not unaccustomed to hard work, and knew he could repair all the damage done by the last few years of neglect.  They had been told the story of the old couple who had lived there, and were keen to bring the Old Queenslander back to its former glory.

They visited the local Thrift Shop, hoping to find kitchen and linen paraphernalia to start again.  The volunteer had said there were several boxes dropped off a few days ago, but she had not had the time to go through them.  She believed there were cups, saucers, and all manner of kitchen accessories, as well as a couple of boxes of linen, towels, sheets, etc. 

The young woman tentatively opened the first box, and upon unwrapping the paper, found the wonderful old crockery which would do fine till she could replace all her own treasured possessions.  The boxes of linen were equally viewed with anticipation, they were in excellent condition and she was keen to take it all.  A price was negotiated, the volunteer knowing the couple had little money, and they packed the boxes into their car, keen to now start their new life in the Old Queenslander.

The final countdown had begun, and in a few days, they would be in their own home, their “little piece of heaven”.  They had packed their meagre belongings, and placed them beside the Thrift Shop boxes, eagerly awaiting the day to come.

At last the day arrived.  As they drove down the road to the old dairy farm, they sensed anticipation of what was to come; a feeling of going home overtook them.  They walked through the gate, past the old laundry, up the stairs and into the house.  All was quiet as they walked through the house, out to the front veranda, into the front yard.  The children ran wildly around, keen to explore the places where they would play.  The young couple walked back into the house, already feeling a sense of belonging.  It was a strange sensation, they were a little bewildered, but not scared.  This was their home forever; they knew it from the moment they walked into the house.  They carried their boxes into the home, and as they started to unpack, were surprised at how easily the contents fitted into the shelves and cupboards, as if they were meant to be there.  It was not long till the stove was lit, the room toasty warm, and the familiar squeals of children’s laughter resounding through the house.  The Old Queenslander seemed to heave a sigh of relief, happy noises of children playing; contentment echoed around the house.