Still looking up
The ropes uncoiled from the ceiling and the silent snipers darted down swiftly.
The chopper carrying the Premier and Police Commissioner swooped in while the police cadets in knee-high, black shiny boots and tight-fitting, dark blue police issue combat gear strutted around the quadrant -” all with fabulous hair and make-up and bulging biceps on the men carrying their batons.
Well, that was what I thought I would be in for when I saw my sister graduate from the Police Academy this week. What I did see was something far more spectacular.
My eldest sister was the one in the family who got into all the trouble first, who rode around in cars with boys, who danced with her girlfriends in balloon skirts and had crazy attitude curly hair to match her wicked ways.
She was my idol when I was growing up. I looked up to her, especially when the Catholic nuns at our high school used to alternate between admonishing her for the length of her skirt and for her rebellious attitude. She used to kiss boys, dye her hair and moodily retreat into her bedroom at night and listen to love songs when she liked a boy.
So this event, this celebratory parade in the sunny state of Queensland, was a long time coming for my sister who had perhaps lost her way for a few years.
She grew up fast when her partner died unexpectedly, an event which struck our family with the force of a meteorite. She’s a girl who has now grown up and followed her dream.
The path was crooked and she was stopped a few times, but her strength and character helped carry her through, even when we all said to let it go.
The parade was standard issue pomp and ceremony. A genuinely respectable service to congratulate the men and women who put their lives on the line every day to serve their community. A ceremony where all the supporting friends and family strained their necks over their proud chests to see their loved ones in the ranks.
When the final march came to an end, I looked over to my parents who were embracing each other and casting their soft proud gaze over their beautiful daughter.
At the final salute from the woman in blue, streams of tears ran down my mother’s gentle face, so proud and so honoured while I stood there amazed at what I had just experienced. I knew then that I was still looking up to my big sister.
