‘When I die, I want to start all over again,’ my seven-year old says, ‘life is awesome.’
We are walking back from the Augrabies Falls viewing deck. The sun is sneaking down towards the horizon, slipping behind clouds plump with rain to throw long shadows and golden flares onto the rocks. Even though this is practically the only ‘alone time’ I have had with my two youngest all day, it’s precious and near perfect. They gambol across the rocks, one singing the anthem from the Lion King at the top of his voice and the other ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ from Wizard of Oz. I field a million questions as we walk (knowing the answers to surprisingly few, must read more or invest in a few ‘bluffers’ guides) and wish that the boardwalk would go on forever.
It’s been a long, pretty hard day. Up at 6am to leave for Kakamas Hospital by 6h30am. The x-rays are fairly quick but we wait for hours to see a doctor. We sit next to a tall Nama woman wearing a long white broderie anglaise skirt and a brown faux leather patchwork coat. She is reed thin with the kind of face that tells a million stories, her bearing regal, her eyes sad. She has placed an orange next to her on the wooden bench; clearly having anticipated the long wait. A lady with an orange and legends in her long fingers.
Endless packing when we get back. Hubby directs, leg propped up on a pillow the doctor now having confirmed a fracture and three weeks in plaster. Big brother lugs bags on to the roofrack and trailer. The little ones make a chain to help pack the smaller things but soon get bored. Feeding the masses. Washing up, more washing up, and then washing up again. Last bits and pieces, and then of course the very last bits and pieces that somehow manage to turn up once everything is stuffed in and locked up. Everyone helps but I still drop into bed at 9pm tired and a bit ratty. On the plus side the car is packed and the sandwiches are made and we’re in good shape for an early morning getaway.
Outside thunder rolls in towards camp and every now and again a flash of lightning flashes through the venetian blinds covering the narrow windows. I fall asleep as the first fat drops clatter on to the roof, the noise and restlessness of the coming storm familiar and soothing.