|
Amanda's Story
I grew up in a big white house
in Sydney's west, on the edge of a bush reserve. My family included
parents, two sisters, a brother and a succession of pets - cats,
bantams, rabbits, guinea pigs, mice, goldfish and a long haired
daschund named Greta.
My days were spent exploring the
bush and discovering the secret tracks, hidden by vines that led to
solitary caves and a meandering creek. The creek was a great place to
catch tiny fish and tadpoles. It flowed into a reed choked pool with
dark, glassy water - the kind in which you'd expect to find a monster
lurking; the kind in which snakes sometimes slipped, their bellies
flashing red.
This was a special place, wild and
dangerous. I knew that if my parents knew - they would not let me come
again. So it remained my secret.
The garden of the big white house
was a paradise, always filled with birds and lizards. The plants seemed
forever to be in bloom and the blooms were filled with insects. In
summer the sound of cicadas singing from the gums could be deafening. At
the point where the garden bordered the bush, wild lantana grew, thick
and pungent. Feral cats had made incursions into this jungle to create
tunnels where they could remain warm and dry and raise their spindly,
hungry kittens.
The bush and the sprawling garden
were a wonderland, every leaf and creature filled with magic. I'd spend
hours there, alone, daydreaming and spinning stories.
Inevitably, as I
grew, I became aware of a whole other world beyond the wonderland. It beckoned
to me and I ached to explore it. I bought a pair of shiny black boots, changed
the colour of my hair and took off for the city. There I was swept up in a
whirlwind of music, nightclubs, boys and all night cafes serving chocolate mud
cake into the dawn.
The city became smaller and I
wanted more. So I bought a much tougher pair of boots and
travelled across the world to Europe to hike through lonely fields and
climb crumbling castles. I explored the streets of London, partied
beneath the stars, and met people from all corners of the globe. I
fell in love and was married in Ireland to the sound of drums and with
wild swan feathers in my hair.
Finally I returned to Australia,
eager to see the wonderland again, but it was not as I'd remembered it.
There were no longer any hidden paths, trailing with vines. The creek
had dried up, the reeds had died and the glassy pool had turned to mud.
The lantana had been hacked away long ago and there was no place for the
unloved cats to have their rag-tag kittens - so they too were gone.
And yet ... the
magic was still there.
I could feel it in my heart, in
all the things I'd known and in all the things I'd seen. I picked
up my pen ...
Back
|
