Letting Go

I KNEW THAT THIS WOULD happen but I just didn’t expect it to be so soon!  You’re moving overseas to follow your dreams, unaware that there will be a lonely heart left behind.  Australia will never be the same again.  Never!

I’m one of those sycamore trees lining the streets of the city of Bendigo—whose patchy yellow and brown autumn foliage has been thinning out for more than a couple of months now…  Nights are getting longer, and the days—cooler and dull.  Like the season of fall that’s coming to an end, I couldn’t hold it off; I couldn’t make you stay.  No.  And the thought that I will never have the right to do it has been making it hurt even more!

It won’t be long until these leaves that have been holding on to these sycamore branches will fall off… Even the frost in the morning couldn’t hold them back; and that only a puff of a crisp winter breeze could blow the final leaf away!  

Unlike the bare branches in winter that promise a new life in spring, mine will surely gonna need pruning when you leave. 

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Sunset Safari

HOLDING MY 7mm-08 CALIBRE RIFLE, I was crouching, walking slowly and moving quietly through the thick eucalyptus woodland.  I’d deliberately stop to look around and would proceed carefully while stepping on top of a pile of soaked fallen leaves and branches.  I was trying to avoid disturbing the magpies that must’ve been seeking refuge in the warmth of the canopy after the heavy autumn rain earlier this afternoon.  Having been exposed to quite a few hunting safaris in Africa I knew that birds taking off would scare the game animals away.

She was following right behind me, dolled up in my other pair of camo-foliage suit—awkwardly mimicking my steps and posture.  I extended my right arm and using my palm, I gave her a signal to stop walking.  Then I peered through the gum tree branches hoping to see a herd of deer but what I saw was a vast and lush lucerne paddock on the other side of the fence and a massive flock of sheep grazing farther afield.  There were no deer...

Though obscured by a few streaks and bunches of hovering clouds, I knew that the sun was setting behind.  The sky above the western horizon had been gradually painted with magical shades of pastel orange and black—a beautiful remnant of that watery vapour that decided to keep sailing up there after the rain.

“James, can we sit down for a moment?  I feel so exhausted.”  

We crossed the fence, and sat next to each other on a small bed of rock.  I laid my rifle down beside me and wrapped my arms around her.  She rested her head on my shoulder.  Underneath the mud-covered sole of my hunting boots I could feel the drenched soil beneath the dewy carpet of lucerne.

A flock of wild ducks instantly flew low over the man-made canal next to the paddock—creating some moving silhouettes against the final glow of the day.  Then she broke the bad news to me!

“I only have six months to live; my oncologist discussed the test result with me the other day.” 

I was lost for words.  I didn’t want to lose her!

I looked straight into her eyes and I noticed the gleam of the scarlet sky reflecting off her pooling tears.

A cool, gentle breeze swept through.

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Fajita Sandwich

A SUDDEN BUMP ON HIS right elbow had awakened Rogelio mid-flight. Gradually gaining his consciousness back from that nap, he’d now started to get aware that he was occupying an aisle seat on his flight from Melbourne to Sydney, noticing that the flight attendants of Qantas 737-800 had been taking the airline service trolley down the aisle for refreshments. There was a delicious aroma wafting through the well-lit cabin.

“Would you like a chicken roll, Sir?” The scarved crew quickly handed him a piece of warm bread roll before he could even say ‘yes’.

“Thank you!”

Rogelio asked for an apple juice and water as he would normally do, then wore the airline complimentary headset on. ‘This Love’ from Taylor Swift’s 1989 album started playing as the aircraft was cruising smoothly 38,000 feet above sea level.

The snack was wrapped in a transparent plastic which was sweating—making the food label easier to read: Lime and Coriander/Fajitas Chicken. As Rogelio tore the packaging away, a Texan-Mexican whiff puffed out and a tiny piece of sliced Turkish bread revealed itself. Dashes of crumbs were falling on the tray table as he started biting and chewing his sandwich—almost closing his eyes while enjoying the heavenly blend of Tejano herbs, melting mozzarella cheese, pieces of chicken, onion and red capsicum bursting in his mouth! For his massive appetite, the delicious snack was relatively small!

He took a gulp of chilled apple juice.

After the fourth and final bite of fajita, he noticed a tiny piece of ground chicken caught in the plastic wrap. He lifted the empty packaging close to his mouth, quickly stuck his tongue out to drill it into wrapper and prehend the leftover. Then he noticed a dice of red capsicum stained with melted mozzarella at the bottom of the wrap—he patiently pushed it out with his thumb and index fingers and nibbled it away.

Instantly, somebody gently tapped him on his shoulder. It was his seatmate—a sophisticated woman, probably on her early fifties! She handed an unopened, warm pack of Lime and Coriander/Fajitas Chicken to Rogelio.

“You’re more than welcome to have it,” his seatmate said, smiling…

“Oh, thank you!”

Thinking that his seatmate was observing him while he was eating his snack a minute earlier, he was a bit embarrassed. He now carefully opened the pack of fajita sandwich given by his seatmate and started eating it with finesse.

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