The Empty Nest

The last Saturday in April was perfect. The sun warmed Sandi's skin, drenching it with goodness, and the air carried a hint of the cold crispness of dawn. The sun had risen from the horizon and the birds were in full chirp. The pink and grey cockies were the loudest, screeching overhead in the old gum tree they'd nearly stripped bare. Having grown up on a farm, Sandi appreciated her morning walks. She loved taking in her surroundings and drawing on them for inspiration and energy. And to make it perfect was the little hand she held, so delicate and warm. The slim fingers slipped from her grasp as her daughter, Gracie, ran ahead to catch a butterfly that flitted across their path.

'I'll see if I can catch it, Mum,' said Gracie, her lanky arms and legs moving forward with determination.

Gracie was good on her feet. She danced around the butterfly as lightly as a cloud floating around in the sun, even though they walked along the rough firebreak at the edge of the paddock. Gracie's golden hair swished about her shoulders as she jumped and her smile was so big that the faint freckles across her checks seemed to move. Gracie had her blonde hair and her father's blue eyes. Sandi's heart lurched with all the love of a mother, almost overwhelming her to tears. She'd just spent an amazing few weeks with both her kids over the Easter break and now they were about to leave for high school again. It just wasn't fair.

Turning away to wipe a stray tear, Sandi noticed a kangaroo in the paddock of stubble left over from harvest. While it sat watching her, a joey flipped out of its pouch. The roo turned her head to the side and Sandi felt like they were sharing a mummy moment. 'They don't stay babies forever,' she whispered. And wasn't that the truth.