jml297

‘What sort of knot did you use?’ Mick was peering at the ropes which formed a net of sorts over the miscellaneous assortment of furniture on the back of his brother’s ute.

‘Dad’s special knot. You know the one, two loops and a tail. A bit fiddly to get it right, but it will hold this lot in place.’ Jim nodded towards the tray, his thoughts slipping ahead to his new home.

‘Are you nervous?’

Jim shook his head. ‘Nah. Had to happen sometime. We’ve always known that this place wasn’t going to be big enough for both of us.’

‘You sure you’ve got all you need?’ Mick was pacing back and forth along the length of the ute’s tray.

Jim grinned and nodded his head. ‘The digs are already furnished. Just needed a few things to make it feel like home.’

There was silence then. Jim checked a couple of the knots, then scuffed the toe of his boot in the dust.

‘You’ll call and let us know you arrived safely?’ Mick’s hands were jammed into the pockets of his jeans.

‘Sure.’

They stared at each other for a breath, then another. Mick stepped toward Jim, his hand outstretched. ‘Don’t be a stranger. This will always be your home too.’

Jim nodded, returning his brother’s handshake with a slight smile.

Then he was off, glancing back just once in the rearview mirror to see Mick standing still, the old homestead behind him, a shimmering figure in the dusty light.

A sense of lightness filled Jim as the miles stretched between the past and his future. Knowing that change was inevitable didn’t necessarily make it easy to accept, but there was a relief and a sense of untapped possibility that called him on. Whatever lay in store for him, he knew where he came from. And Mick was right, there was the farm, a constant presence in their lives. It had an energy all of its own, a place of shared history and memories.

This was written to a prompt at my writing group.

Photo: Sunset view from Sofala, NSW