Mum and Dad summoned me and the mini men home for the long weekend to attend an old friend reunion – friends they haven’t seen for nearly 30 years.
We went up slightly begrudgingly but then it turned out to be quite an eye opener of a trip.
On walking in the front door, I was met by a lady by the name of Fay. She was holding Dad’s hand as we were introduced.
“Once your father brought this young lady over to meet me and all I remember is she wanted to go out to a club and do the jitterbug,” she smiled at me.
The young lady was, of course, my mother. Was jitterbug code word for some drug they took – it surely couldn’t be a dance? Either way, I was most pleased that my mother was the cheeky social one of the group.
The Swans were minutes away from winning, yet mother decides to sweep open the back door for her grand entrance, to old wolf whistles and cheers. I laughed – she is so camp, so Reynolds.
There were old friends asking why I didn’t remember them, others who remembered me being ‘this high’ and others who I remember as eternally nefarious and always inspecting the inside of an esky.
I dutifully went around the old gents to say goodbye, shaking their hands – just as my Dad used to make me do years ago. I walked off, noticing the mini men were copying me and jostling the geezers for some hand shaking. It was adorable.
The old ducks sat in a circle in the sun, grabbing the boys and I as we were leaving. I felt a pinch on the bum (“Hey, I’m not clenching yet”) to their raucous laughing and more grabbing.
I looked at the wrinkles, the thinned hair, the wobbly walks – what an amazing child hood I had, knowing these people. The stories, the love, the feisty looks – and that was just them now, I can only imagine them 30 years ago.