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Showing posts from December, 2015

On Visiting Parents

Last week I visited my parents at The Entrance, on the Central Coast, about an hour north of Sydney. We holidayed there every year when I was a kid, and I sometimes even got the last week off school to do so. My parents always said that when they retired they’d move there, and that’s what they did. When I visit now, I arrive as a ten year old, excited at being back in a place of childhood delight, my muscles and synapses defying time. The choc-dipped ice cream, probably deficient in da iry, is still to be found, though the price is not, with 40c transformed to $4.50. The pelicans are still fed, but now it’s a daily 3pm tourist attraction. The jetty where I used to fish is untouched, though now seems so much smaller, just like the bream. The Housie Hall is now one of those Base Warehouses, where quality is an apparition and everything is cheaper than you’d imagine. This year is different. My parents are living in a new place, closer to the water. When I scan the room