Leaving Home

It was a sunny morning. I was sitting down by the creek, fishing with my bare hands. I was happy. We had the trout I caught for tea. I went out at ten or elevenish. The vast night sky was teaming with stars so bright, I thought they were about to explode. The next morning, I heard an echoing sound of a cart coming down the drive. I peeped out the window. The landowners – they were here. That means either they want us gone or they were raising our taxes. Mother and the landowners argue for hours, it felt like. I remember I heard mother cry, not like I’ve ever heard her before. She burst into my room. She grabbed me, told me everything. Deep down I didn’t want to know. I comforted mother all day. Father would not take it. He said, “We should stand for what we have built and not let some dumb sheep take our place. Not ever!” The employers tried to burn the barn down. We had no choice. We had to go. We packed our bags, sold our cattle and got on the boat. It was a long four months trapped on the bottom deck of the ship. We had arrived in Australia. The hot dry air engulfed my body. I thought I was about to die. We found a house in the bush. I liked to go out in the mornings to squawk with the birds. It’s ok here. It’s not our home but it will do. But for the landowner, once the sheep didn’t cost so much, he begged us to come back. We said absolutely.