January 24, 2020
Australia Day always made Claire feel a little nostalgic. The end of January, the summer holidays drawing to a close. When she was a kid, small businesses would then reopen and the normal grind of the year would begin. So much had changed in 20-odd years. In some ways she yearned for the past. The slower pace of life, the simplicity of it.
Nostalgia, of course, isn’t what it used to be.
Claire was much better off than she’d ever been. As a child, she was a timid little thing, her peers either bullying her or ignoring her. Everyone said she’d come into her own when she left school. If only they could see her now. The transformation had been rather remarkable. She’d left her past in the dust.
And yet it was her past that called her name. This long weekend, she was recreating the summers from her childhood. It seemed a bit quaint now, driving for hours up the coast to a rural town by the sea. Most of her friends preferred flying for 8 hours, seeking dirt cheap package holidays in Bali. Claire wasn’t much for patriotism, but presumably it was better to support local businesses – it’d do more good than kicking up a fuss, wrapped in a Chinese-made flag.
Leaving work at lunchtime, she’d be able to beat the worst of the traffic, and hopefully arrive before sunset.
Making a pit stop, she was delighted to find an old-fashioned Greek milk bar. The peeling sign looked unchanged since she was a little girl, the woman behind the counter likely the granddaughter of the immigrants who had originally established it.
It had to be a burger with the lot (hold the egg). Emulating her mother, Claire lay a towel down on the splintering wooden bench overlooking the one-horse town, and got out the baby wipes. There’s only one way to eat a burger with the lot, as overloaded as it is – with the paper bag disintegrating and the pineapple juice running down your arms.
The main drag of the town was eerily quiet – she’d beaten the long weekend rush. The ever-present hum of the cicadas and other insects was almost as oppressive as the heat. Just outside the town, she could see the wind whipping up the dust, the farmland almost crying out with thirst, a mirage shimmering. It was interesting how heat could so obscure your vision.
Just a few more hours on the road. The beachside huts from her childhood holidays were still there, although now rather careworn. Cheap airfares had much to answer for. But she was here, and economic downturn couldn’t ruin this evening. A dazzling sunset, the worst of the heat fading from the air. Claire sat just beyond the gently lapping waves, the salty breeze tousling her hair. Like her parents had, while she and her siblings played in the sand.
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