I can’t force it, no matter how much I want to.
I wait in silence for as long as I can.
She’s frozen and numb, dissociating from the overwhelm.
Maybe I’ve pushed her too far.
Or not far enough.
All I know is, it’s time to let go now.
I can’t be the parent anymore.
Amos and I hug her one final time.
A hug that might be too tight, but she never tells me so.
“Love you, son,” she says.
Words I hungered for so much as a kid.
Words I’ve accepted I will never ever hear from my dad.
And as we stand there next to the overturned wheelbarrow, I no longer need him.
“Love you too, Ma. I love yousomuch.”
The three of us crowd together for a photo.
That’s something I’ll later be so thankful for.
“Drive safe, won’t ya,” she calls from the top of the stairs.
Her voice crumbles a little as she waves.
“Call me,” I plead.
She nods.
And I hope she means it.
Blowing her one last kiss, I turn.
Gravel crunches beneath my shoes.
Hand in hand, Amos and I walk down the driveway.
The same driveway I once sprinted along in the dark.
the thirty second chapter
AMOS
Ahandwritten sign is taped to the pump.
Diesel only in Windorah.
“Good thing you blokes have a ute if you're headed that way,” warns a grey haired flannel-clad man nearby. “You got far to go?”
