Hot daze
It is hot. Soooo hot. And dry. And dusty.
It’s always been hot here in summer. And dry. And dusty. But this is something else. Much worse than I ever remember. Record-breaking, they say.
I’ve lived in Mildura all my life. And I’m never moving. Even though my kids want me to. Especially because my kids want me to! Ha ha. No, not really. I’m not that silly. Stubborn maybe. I tell them, “There is zero chance I am leaving this house. You can take me out in a box.”
None of them have lived in Mildura for years. Left as soon as they could and have barely come back. My husband’s gone too now. He’s been dead for five years. Maybe it’s six. I forget. I forget a few things. More than I let on. But I’m 83. What do you expect? As long as I can look after myself, I’m fine. And I’m comfortable here. In this house I’ve lived in for 60 years. In this town I’ve lived in for 83 years.
Goodness it’s hot. And dry. And dusty.
The kids taught me how to use that Zoom thing in Covid. Every so often we talk on there. Well, not talk exactly as only one person can talk at a time so it’s a bit weird. Sometimes, the grandkids hop on too. It’s always nice to see their faces. I never actually see them in person but the kids say that’s my fault because I won’t leave Mildura and the grandies think Mildura is the pits.
I watch the flies zigzag up the wall in the kitchen.
It sure is hot. And dry. And dusty.
I feel a bit weak actually. Maybe I should have a lie down?
I go and have a lie down but it’s no cooler. I feel like I hear someone knock on the door but I’m too tired to get up and answer it. It’s probably Cath from next door. She’ll come back.
I hear the phone ring. That can wait too.
I really don’t feel that good. I might even think about calling one of the kids later. I’ll just sleep a bit more and see how I feel.
I turn the TV in my room on. The newsreader is talking about bushfires and extreme heat. Breaking records they say.
I wake up and the TV is not on any more. Maybe it was on too long and went off by itself?
Goodness it’s hot. And dry. And dusty.
I fall straight back to sleep. I really don’t feel well.
I think I hear the front door opening.
Someone lifts me up.
“Mum? Mum? Mum?
Wake up!
Mum, you’re scaring me.
Mum?”
about the author
Leonie Jarrett lives in Melbourne, Australia with her Husband of more than three decades, two of her four adult children and her two Golden Retrievers. Leonie loves to tell stories. you enjoy the story? Would you like to shout us a coffee? Half of what you pay goes to the author the other half goes to expenses e.g. Maintaining the web site and setting up The Best of Café Lit book each year.
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