Before I Die

Chapter Four

Winds sweep fiercely crossing the highway shaking our climb up the mountain.  The road is deadly covered with blacken ice and an illumination of blue taints the horizon from the oils produced by eucalyptus trees.

A storm is brewing, devastating destruction is on its way.

"Mum, I'm not sure we should be driving to the mountains for lunch today. It's blowing a gale outside. I don't think my car will make it up the mountain especially on these icy roads. It's black ice season."

Impractical and selfish, mum doesn't care. All she wants is a day out of the house, away from dad and his verbally abusive behaviour.

A couple of years ago my dad was diagnosed with epilepsy and after years on drugs we'd hoped his temper would dissipate, numbed by the drugs that kept him alive.

Unfortunately it had the reverse affect and now with ageing and having a sick wife, his lack of patience and empathy was non existent.

"I'm really looking forward to lunch in the deli. It has a view over the mountains and they have the best desserts,"mum gleams while looking out of the passenger side car window.

"How about we start with soup or a homemade meat pie mum, then we can share a dessert?"

"No I'll get fat. I'll just have dessert thank you."

Of course you will!

Sugar and spice and everything nice. We have the sugar and spice.

I'm still praying for the nice!

I continue driving up the dangerous highway hoping we don't hit black ice.

Ice cold winds that chills your bones surrounds us as we exit the car and as quick as lightening strikes, we dash through the car park and head to the deli.

The aroma of logs burning and the smells of freshly made soups and sticky date pudding fills my nostrils.

I'm glad for our instant seating. Glad mums happy as she orders her sticky date pudding with caramel sauce.

During the summer months, the view of the mountains is spectacular. Only mad men and locals make the treacherous journey in winter.

As we are neither people stare, questioning why we'd come. Two hours drive from the city, gale force winds and black iced road, we must have a death wish.

Only my mum, and sometimes me, depending on how bad my day is going.

"How's your pudding mum?"

"Delicious. Better than your soup I'm sure."

"Do you know how many calories are in your pudding? If you don't want to get fat, maybe the minestrone soup might be a better choice next time."

Sometimes my frustration seeps out like a toxin trying to escape it's sealed container and then the inevitable happens.

An instant mood change and verbal abuse. I've ruined her day out again.

Antagonising the situation, I should know better by now yet my urge for practicality rises.

They say you shouldn't antagonise. They say you shouldn't upset the patients especially one with her condition. They say you should always agree irrelevent of the conversation.

"Let's go buy you a new hat and scarf. They have an alpaca store in the village. Let's see if they have anything on sale."

Distraction with shopping, I hope for the best, or is it too late for a change in mood?

"Yes, I need a new hat and scarf. Your father doesn't allow me to shop anymore."

If only the seven new pairs of unworn slippers told a different story to the one she is sharing today.

"Well dad's not with us so lets shop.  I can buy you a new hat and scarf mum. Dad doesn't need to know about it."

"One to match my new coat. The one I bought and lost last week."

We didn't buy the coat last week.  She'd picked a coat for five thousand dollars. Instead I lent her my camel coat, a purchase from my London trip now four years ago. It now sits carefully again in dad's cupboard hidden so she can borrow it when she's lucid as I'd prefer her to not lose my coat.

Two hats later, one dusty pink coloured scarf and we head down the mountains before another storm hits.

The mountains are out crying with sympathy, like as if they can feel my life. Not cries of joy but cries of frustrating that the whistling of a saddened tune.

Storms like this leave destruction, flattening houses where they stand. People and animals alike are left homeless, no shelter, no food, no life.

Storms past, people rebuild and animal return overtime.

My life is a storm that been brewing for years, a storm that is yet to pass. And like a storm I'll weather its force with the hope, one day to rebuild my life.

(Readers - thank you again so much for reading....)