Beyond the Crushing Waves

by Bronwen Pratley

All her life, she’d learned the lesson that if she didn’t want anyone to take advantage, she should keep as much of herself to herself as she could manage.

That’s not information I want. Leave me in the dark. I’m happy there. It’s quiet, and I have snacks.

It’s a hard thing, to live without love. Like a tree without sunlight, or a flower without water. And when you don’t understand something, it’s easy enough to pass that confusion on to your children.

We take our parents so much for granted that we forget to know them in any real way other than the little things like their favourite drink, or how easily they fall asleep on the couch, or their favourite hobbies. But we don’t pry into the deeper stuff, the reality behind who they are as a person. We’re too caught up in the mundane to dig for more. “That’s right — she and Gramps were sent over to Australia from England. They came here by themselves, with no parents. Grew up on a farm outside Molong. An institution for poor or orphaned children, where they learned how to work on a farm or in domestic service. They didn’t receive affection or have anyone to love them — no one taught them how to love. So, I’m sure they did the best they could in raising you and Aunt Sonya.”