My cousin was kind enough to remind me the
other day that spending six weeks with my parents would be the longest time I
have spent with them since uni holidays – and even then I was working most of
the day, weeding tomato paddocks – wonderful work in the 37 ish degree heat of
the northern Victorian summer.
And apparently, in just a few days back in
the parental fold there is very little distance between teenager Annalea and
today’s Annalea – it’s interesting how quickly we can regress to our former,
less gracious or compassionate selves in such a short time.
First night after travelling three days and
being very confused about who, where and what time it was:
Mum: Now we won’t make any plans cause we
know you don’t like to make plans.
Me: Excellent.
The next morning I hear whispering from the
lounge room:
Dad: I wonder what time she’ll get up.
Dad: Will she want breakfast before going
to the market?
Mum: I don’t know, ask her.
Dad: Maybe we should go for breakfast after
the market?
Mum: She might be hungry before that.
Dad: Which café should we go to after the
market then?
Me: Morning! Anyone for a vodka?
Dad: Do you want to have breaky now or
after the market? Do you want something small or a big eggs breakfast? What do
you want to do after the market? Do you want to go to the pool or beach?
Me: I thought I’d just have a vodka and see
where the day takes me…
And over the next 2 days:
Mum: What are you going to do with your
hair?
Me: I don’t understand the question.
Mum: Aren’t you hot in those boots? Do you
have some nice shoes?
Me: I don’t understand the question.
Dad: What are you eating? What are you
doing? Where are you going?
Me: Vodka.
Mum: Are you wearing that?
Me: Due to a serious case of swimmer’s ear
caused by you letting me run wild and spend every day swimming in freezing cold
rivers with treacherous currents, and the nights hanging my head out of cars
speeding down long country roads like a crazed border collie – also your fault
for not putting locks on the bedroom windows – I can’t hear you.
Mum: Well, your brother didn’t need locks
on the windows.
Me: That’s ‘cause he’s boring!!!
Dad: You look beautiful. Except for the
boots.
Me :/
Mum: Do you want to go and put some
lipstick on?
Me: I don’t understand the question.
Of course I understand the questions, they
want to see me and know that I’m here with them. They enjoy their roles as
parents and it is wonderful to be spoilt and fussed over – they are very
excited to have me here and I have been excited to get here. They want to show
me everything they love about the place and how much they’ve made it a bit of a
home – the oldies they get their fruit and veg from at the market on Saturday
mornings, the café with the best iced coffee, Louis’ Bar; the smoky local where
dad hangs out with his mates, the local supermarkets and their favorite lunch
spots.
And it's the wonderful familiar of watching dad cut up his fruit for his cereal with such concentration and precision, then holding it up: Look at that! And mum telling me stories about their neighbours and keeping me up to date with the news - which I never bother to watch. And both of them swearing at the computer. And of course we don’t get to be spoilt often or children forever so for now I will
visit and meet and greet and eat, I will pop on some lippy, put my hair up and
find some non-boots. Because there was vodka, soda water, limes and gluten free food in the apartment when I arrived. And because the novelty will wear off and then I can run
rampant. As they also expect me to do as their child.
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