Waiting For You

Rārangi upoko 7 'No News?'

The sun slowly sank below the horizon as Anne slipped a cracker with cheese into her mouth. "This was a great idea mom," she said with her mouth full, "we should do this more often. Why don't we go on picnics more often?"

Rosemary took a sip of wine from her travel mug. "I suppose life has drifted us apart a bit." She replied and smiled sadly. "Living independently does that."

Anne looked north out across the view of Auckland, feeling guilty for the lack of a relationship between her and her mother. They were sitting on the craters bank of Ōwairaka or Mount Albert picnicking as the sun went down over Auckland. The city lights had all begun to come on, lighting the landscape up like some sort of fairy fair. The evening was pleasantly warm and still, perfect for a picnic dinner out. Behind them in the Basin of the dormant volcano, archery was taking place.

"How's that cheese?" Rosemary asked.

"What, the brae? Or the creamy Blue?"

"Both of them." Her mother replied and leant over to take a cheese-laden cracker from the plate on the mat.

"Um, I think I prefire the Brea over that of the creamy blue," Anne said, she found the blue to strong of a flavour, Joshua would have liked it though, he would have liked all of it, the picnic, the wine, the warm evening outdoors. "Do you think he's ok?"

"Of course."

"Why hasn't he written then? Its been three weeks since his last letter."

Rosemary handed her the travel mug. "He needs time to process things," she said gently, before placing another cracker into her mouth.

"What more does he need to process then that I have processed?" Anne asked and took a sip from the travel mug, "you should have brought two of these." She added.

"I was going to, but I couldn't find the other one before leaving the house," Rosemary responded. "Remember that Joshua is out there, doing the hard work of stitching people back up while all the while searching for his friend, it can't be that easy."

An evening jogger and their dog passed them below on the pathway.

"I don't know, Honey," Rosemary said slowly after the jogger had passed out of earshot. She gestured for the travel mug back. "I am sure he has a reason for not writing."

Anne passed the mug back to her mother before picking up the last cracker on the plate. The wind suddenly picked up, making the blanket flap about, throwing the empty plate onto the grass.

"Its getting cold," Rosemary said as she wrapped her coat around herself.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Anne agreed, "it's heading to that time of the evening." She was not feeling as warm as she had been a moment before. "Mom?"

"Yes, dear?" Rosemary turned and studied her daughter's face. "What is it?"

Anne looked down at her hands on her lap, knowing what she was about to ask was going to reawaken old regrets and memories, and potentially redivide their newly forged relationship. "How did you cope when dad died?"

"I don't think I did." Rosemary said with her brow creased, "Not sure if you recall the nights after..." She looked off into the distant view of Auckland city in memory, "I," she paused, her face taking on a grieved look and Anne wished that she hadn't asked. "I, I wasn't a good mother. I didn't know what to do, after finding all of a sudden that I was single and had a nine-year-old child to feed and look after on my own."

Anne rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "I shouldn't have asked, sorry Mom."

"No, I mean its healthy to talk about these things, sweet pudding." Rosemary said, "How else are we meant to teach those who need the knowledge of how to cope? That letter that Agnes wrote to you was so right, she's a wise one, that Agnes."