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31 Home Again I returned to Australia on June 5, 1998. The flight from London was much less arduous than the flight to Europe. Maybe it was because I was flying with the spin of the earth and not against it. Perhaps it was because my head wasn’t heavy with apprehension. Flying over Australian soil reminded me that I was just hours from seeing my father and friends. Out of my window, I saw the Simpson Desert colored red by the setting sun. I thought of the song “The End” by the Doors, of riding Jim Morrison’s seven-mile-long snake, for the huge sand ridges were like that of tracks left by the huge rainbow serpent native Australians say roamed in Dreamtime. Away for just five months, it was as if I had never been to Australia in my life. I purchased a latte and a newspaper at the Sydney airport while waiting for my flight to Melbourne and had absolutely no idea what the cashier said. There was no subtotal showing on the cash register, and I had difficulty adjusting to the Australian accent. A crowd of jet-lagged travelers shuffled impatiently behind me. I was lost in a moment of stupid confusion holding a handful of silver and gold coins when a young American woman saved me further embarrassment by picking out the correct amount from my hand. I thanked her wholeheartedly for her kindness. Dad greeted me at the airport. My homesickness had been obvious in the letters I had sent him, so he was extremely pleased that I was home again. Never before had the scents of Bendigo been so strong. I could smell the evergreen garden in the winter night, coffee, cigarettes, the pinewood lining of the house, and the smoke from logs and sticks burning in the open fire. I had a haircut during my first week home. My shoulder-length locks had long been a source of pride, but I was ready for a new beginning, a new me. 205 ❖ My father and his partner Linda had been seeing each other for eleven years at this point. They had lived in separate houses, but both were now able to buy an equal share in a beautiful new home beneath huge eucalyptus trees on the outskirts of Bendigo. They married in the historic goldmining town of Maldon on the day of my twenty-fifth birthday. One Saturday night, a few weeks before their wedding, Dad and I were sitting in our courtyard relaxing. Dad didn’t seem the slightest bit nervous about his impending wedding. He lit a cigarette and asked, “Do you have a birthday wish?” I replied, “That you and Linda have a long and prosperous marriage.” He was surprised by my quick reply, as he was a man who had always put his child before himself. “Thank you,” he said. “So, how are you feeling in the last days of bachelorhood?” I joked. He gave a wry smile, “Nowhere as anxious as the last two weddings.” I wondered if he had been holding off making a marriage commitment because of past experiences. Dad read my mind, “Time is a great healer.” “So do you think the tables have turned?” “I don’t know about that, but it is much easier this time. Both our kids are adults, and we don’t have to worry about where the next dollar is coming from.” “You told me recently that you are now in the prime of your life.” “Yes. Life has got better as I have got older.” “You’ve been through some hard times. I thought my breakup with Bella was tough; but when I think how you lost my mother, raised me, and dealt with my deafness, it’s hard to imagine how tough it must have been.” “Let’s hope the same doesn’t happen to you.” He went quiet like he always did when we talked about Mum. But he asked, “So what do you think about me getting married?” “What do I think?” I laughed, “You don’t need my permission!” He looked away. It was important that he had my blessing. “Well, you can’t really go wrong this time. Eleven years shows that there is certainly substance.” “Linda is very special to me. This is my way of showing my love to her.” n e i t h e r- n o r 206 [13.59.234.226] Project MUSE (2024-04-20...

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