12th May 2013 was one of the few Mothers’ Days I have spent without seeing any of my offspring. It was to be expected since we had moved to sw Victoria of gorgeous beaches to be nearer to needy son in Adelaide but still within range of other family in Victoria. An idealistic move that didn’t do much else but isolate us from family and friends as it turned out.
I was invited to my youngest daughter’s place in Castlemaine where my other daughter would have joined us The moon boot I was wearing to protect the ankle fractured on the way home from visiting family in Olinda recently made the long drive impractical mainly because I have the bad habit of using both feet to drive an automatic car and wouldn’t have been able to share the driving.
Saturday had its share of nostalgia. At the Port Fairy market I bought a passion fruit sponge that we later shared with my friend since age six sitting in her small sheltered back porch just a few metres from the beach. Naturally enough the conversation turned to fishing and I recalled how my teenage sons loved that particular activity. Wild and hyperactive as they were they would sit still and quietly for hours waiting for the elusive fish to bite. I’d happily drive them to pleasant haunts and enjoy several hours of unaccustomed peace while they fished. I still wonder where that patience came from. Only yesterday my eldest son declared he doesn’t have the patience for technology and I pointed out how he still loves to fish for hours on end.
On reaching home I had a message from my second son telling me he had received a message about my lost mobile phone. I texted him back saying ‘the lady wearing a moon boot’ as described by my friend on the Contacts list was easily found and reunited with her phone!
Next morning I received a mms from that son with a photo of my gorgeous grandaughter looking as if she were saying Happy Mothers Day though I knew she wasn’t. Soon I had a phone call from him saying I had rung him and incidentally, Happy Mothers’ Day, did I get the photo he had tried out with his new phone. My phone had rung him accidentally, and serendipitously as it turned out.
Daughter from Castlemaine texted greetings and later youngest son from Brisbane phoned and was sad that the wedding dvd he had posted wouldn’t play on our computer. Older daughter texted that night with apologies for lateness, but promise that a parcel would arrive soon. Eldest son in Adelaide who relies on being near a phone where he can use Telecard at my expense left a message of greeting next day.
Sunday was a rainy day and already picnics at a sunny beach less than a week ago began to look like a distant dream. I had the urge to go to Lake Cart Carrong, an isolated fishing spot not far from here. Swans usually glide on that silvery body of water but not this time. What an isolated spot! Shabby picnic table, no toilet, and the small jetty under repair. Not even a walking track around the lake. Thank goodness for the thermos of coffee we had brought and the family of black tailed native hens that had temporarily settled in the paddock next to the small car park, Their antics were a joy to watch and a challenge to photograph with my new camera with powerful zoom.
An old friend from long ago in the Hills, a Warrnambool resident for many years, had called with his wife and their 103 year old friend while we were out. Another Hills friend phoned to say she and her friend were coming to Warrnambool that night and wanted to catch up next day. So old friends enhanced the nostalgia of Mothers’ Day and made up a little for the fact family were far away.