1.4 Now and Then

A choir of birds sing so loud the whole camp can hear their tunes. Trees gently dance to their harmonies and beneath them, roses gradually wake from their deep winter sleep. Sun floods in and lights up the white walls like a stage-ready to perform. In the distance, a powerful sea rumbles like a hungry lion waiting for dinner. In the garden, each blade of grass basks in the morning rays and slowly remove layers of frost as the temperature rises. Bees and bugs leap from flower to flower and the smell of pollen leaks into the air. Above them, big branches support a treehouse fit for kings that watches over the field below. Beneath is a swing, that grows older each day looking more and more exhausted and heading into retirement. Out the front is a gate that guards unwanted guests. Branches and vines hug the wooden gate in a lacey pattern. Beside that is a garage full of engine-powered toys and odds and bobs. One car, two couches, three fridges for some reason I am still yet to learn and four motorbikes. A path of circular concrete steps painted all shades leads you back to the house.

The essence of lunch cooking can be smelt from the park down the road. Spaghetti toasties will always bring kids running. Inside, there are two rocking chairs that are older than Noahs Ark. A room full of tall and well-stocked cupboards is where all the hungry kids wait to be fed. Games, puzzles and books are crammed into a cabinet taller than me, kept safe for rainy days. Crisp white walls lead you through a maze and into the bedrooms where two bunks wait for the sun to fall. Beneath the carpet is worn, yet full of fantasy and memories. A ruby rose rug warms the ground underneath the beds. Sounds of the dishwasher buzz, the dryer whizz and the milkshake maker drown the racket of other children outside. On the kitchen bench, fresh flowers stand confidently in their vase. Slowly the petals age and fall to the tabletop.

Water drips from the ceiling like teardrops streaming from a child’s face. The house has been left alone with a leak for years waiting for a return. Leaves cover the ground like a warm winter blanket. Above them, trees encase the house creating a cave of branches. The garden looks more like a forest that needs to go to the hairdresser and the once clean and tidy treehouse is now camouflaged by the jungle surrounding it. The gate is now fully clothed in vines and the wood is no longer visible. The worn tire swing that was attached to an old branch is dead and broken. An arm of the tree has fallen to its grave and taken the old swing with it. Moss has made itself at home near the base of the tree and the deceased swing. It coats the tire and has also made its way to the slippery verandah. A green skating rink is now where the sun once glistened on the wooden deck.

Damp is the world the describes the feeling of inside the house. Rooms are crisp like refrigerators on the cold mornings. Dust now coats the once immaculate house. Water trickles from the swimming pool in the laundry cupboard. Shampoo, conditioner and other beauty products swim in the unwanted pool. Mould coats the casing of each product. A musty and damp aroma fills the room. Soggy walls line the south side of the house. For the past two years, the house has been miserable but not completely alone. Mice have made themselves at home in the soft pillowy towels. Evidence still remains of their being. The cupboard full of now ancient and unused board games is also thick in dust waiting again to be used. Stored in frames on the wall are small images of times long ago that will never be forgotten. A place kept for the next generation to come.