Spare Key’s ‘round the Back

In my 24ish years of life I have had many different homes. I’ve had a flat with a stray cat hiding underneath it, and a mouldy, Hamilton house with a cockroach infestation. There have been cupboards full of stolen schooner glasses, and cupboards where my barbies lived. Rooms begrudgingly shared with my older sister, and rooms that she’s yet to visit. Despite the seemingly constant moving, I have always had a home- a place where Dad says “the door is always open” for me. 

It’s a place to go for respite, for Easters and Christmases and weekends when I just need some farm time. 25 acres of clay and lanolin and love. 

For a “farm”, you may be thinking that 25 acres is not a lot. You’d be right, but my home is the whole locality. It’s the dusty laneways I run and the canopy of gum trees. It’s my neighbours houses with the dolls and the pools and the endless cups of tea and the place where Dad got chased by a bull. 

It’s the best spot on earth for sunsets and night skies. 

As some of you may know, my sister has just had a baby. What a special thing it is to see your beautiful family grow. Soon he will visit our old home for the first time. We can show him where Gray and I dropped the spare key down a crack in the concrete and locked ourselves out in the Westerly sun after school. We had laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, putting away our usual grievances with the shared goal of getting inside, laying on the kitchen tiles and eating a Zooper Dooper. We can show him all of the love that’s been felt there, especially when his Dad proposed to his Mum in the paddock with a heart slashed into it by his Pa.

How lucky we are to always be welcomed home. I hope you love it just as much as we do, Freddie.

xx Rose