Waking up in the barn, the straw beneath me scratchy but warm. Looking up and seeing one of the farm horses standing guard over me as I slept. My mother’s voice, calling my name.
Somewhere, in the hot and dry far west of the state, watching as a freight train approached, plumes of steam wriggling across the bright blue sky. The train roars past, a blur of noise and motion in an otherwise still landscape. And then, the sweet tang of celery, its scent carried on the air as the railway wagons loaded with their green cargo speed their way towards Sydney.
Waking up in bed and Dad told me that Mum is going to have a baby.
What would you like?
A baby horse, I reply.
I got a sister instead.
I’m still waiting for the horse.
This is a fictionalised account of three generations of early memories from my family.
I’m participating in this blogging challenge for the month of January, which supports starting the year on the “write” track. You can find other posts with #bloganuary and join in the challenge.
Photo: pair of horses spotted on Norfolk Island
Fantastic writings ! Still waiting for the horse 😄.
I really enjoy reading you words, keep it up.
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Thank you 😉