Goodbye Deep Well Farm

Pa is here early the next morning.

He’s brought more chairs, and a table.

Then he keeps working in the machinery shed.

I go and help.

‘Lots of bits and pieces that people didn’t want

have been left behind,’ he laughs.

‘Pa,’ I ask, ‘how did you get used to leaving?’

‘Hmm, I suppose your grandma and I

knew it was coming.

It gave us more time to do some travelling,

some hobbies.

We were happy here and happy

when your dad and mum

took over the work.

Perhaps I would have liked you or Leah

to take over too. But things change.

The O’Briens and their extended family will look

after the farm.’

‘Will you come to our new farm?’ I ask.

‘It won’t have milking cows.’

‘Yes, I’ll have to stay a few nights then,

it’s a long way away.

Closer to your mum’s family.

That will be good.

The cats, chooks and of course Trigger

will go with you,

and some of your dad’s beef cattle,

so not everything has been sold.

And the tractors will go too.’

I nod. It’s beginning to sound a little bit exciting.

Cousins I hardly know to meet,

a new school, new farm.

‘But will we forget Leah?’ I blurt out.

And the tears spring again.

‘Of course not, Toby.

Listen, Leah is here in our hearts

and up here in our memories.

And on every special occasion

we’ll remember her.’ And Pa holds me tight.

‘Come on, we’ve earned some morning tea

and I hear that your mum has had a big baking day.’

We put our boots at the back door,

wash our hands,

and Pa always combs his hair as well.

We help Mum with the coffee,

pile biscuits on plates.

‘Not too many,’ says Mum. ‘We’ll need some for tonight.’

‘Lots coming?’ asks Pa.

‘Not sure, but expect a few. It’s the final goodbye

really.’

‘That will be hard,’ says Pa.

Mum nods.

We eat in silence, then Pa goes back to the shed

and I help Mum cut up carrots,

cabbage, celery, tomatoes, radishes.

‘Salads for our BBQ tonight,’ explains Mum.

‘Are you happy to see some of your friends Toby?’

Mum looks at me closely.

I nod. I know it will be part of my goodbyes.

‘At least there will be a huge bonfire

and Uncle Samuel will bring his guitar,’ I say.

Then Mum gives me a hug.

I remember the last time Uncle Samuel came to

our farm. Leah was in bed recovering

from her latest round of chemo

and Uncle Samuel sang to her, even made up

little jingles about Shelley and Tilly.

That made Leah laugh. We all heard that

laughter and I try to recall it now, but all

I hear are the funny songs Uncle Samuel loves

making up.

‘We’ll never forget Leah.

Never,’ says Mum as if she is also remembering

Leah’s laugh.

‘I think Dad will be glad to have his brother here too,’ adds Mum.

‘Uncle Samuel always gets a party going

with his singing.’

I don’t want to see Mum cry,

so I hug right back, even though

it’s getting hard to hug her properly,

and then I go to my room.

I unfold the map of ‘Leave Taking’.

It’s getting a bit of farm dirt on it

and I like that. I have said goodbye

to almost every marked spot,

but there is one place left to go.

I roll up the map, tuck it into

my pocket and head around the back way

to go outside.

I just have time before some early neighbours

arrive to help out. I know there will be lots

of hugs and tears and cups of tea, coffee,

soft drinks, eating and storytelling.

Trigger has been dozing by his kennel and

he jumps up and follows me.

I wave to Dad putting some more stumps

onto the bonfire and keep walking

until I reach the oldest shed on the farm.

Pa called it the old black smithy shed.

Dad was going to knock it over with the

front-end loader, but I yelled and spluttered

and carried on, so he just shrugged his

shoulders and said, ‘Alright son, maybe the O’Brien

family might restore it. Who knows?’

Pa said he could remember an old workman using

that shed when he was a boy.

‘Always something breaking on a farm,

so it was handy to fix something yourself

or fashion a new part. Can’t do that these days.’

This was one of Leah’s favourite spots, even though

we had to make big stomping noises as we went

near it just in case

a snake or a rat was inside.

And we mainly went in winter. Such treasure,

Leah had said as we found old shrunken leather straps

from bridles and huge padded harnesses to put on the

Clydesdale horses that pulled the ploughs

before Great Grandpa had tractors.

Leah really liked the horseshoes

she found; some on nails on the wall,

others under layers of dirt on the earthen floor.

I know what I am looking for and I reach up

to take the smallest of all the horseshoes.

For a pony maybe or a magical tiny horse,

Leah had said. I will pack this with the gumnuts

and the map.

We’d made up games of cooking and feasts and

wishing potions,

leaning over the bricked furnace, thinking

of the fierce heat and the sweat and the hammering.

Leah had gathered lots of horseshoe nails

in an old tin pot. But I leave those

for the next family.

Trigger is scratching in the corner.

‘Come away,’ I order. ‘No time to chase anything

now, we have to get back home. Tidy up.’

I go outside; already the sun is sinking.

Pa said he would wash down the yard for me tonight.

‘Goodbye old black smithy shed,’ I say.

 

Dad lights the bonfire.

It roars like a wild dragon.

People move back until the lick of flame

becomes less hungry.

Then the huge tree stumps

Dad has placed at the bottom,

with more at the top of the bonfire,

begin slow-burning.

I think of the box of Leah’s drawings

and know that she’d like the ashes

left here.

The BBQ is already sizzling sausages,

hamburgers, chops.

Uncle Samuel is in charge.

He has a striped apron

on, a chef’s hat and is waving

a huge pair of BBQ tongs.

He calls, ‘Toby, has your mum got

any more onions?

Need more plates too.’

Then my friend Emmy comes over

and Jaxon joins her.

They follow me to the house.

In the kitchen they look at the little map

I placed on the noticeboard last night,

seeing that everyone in my family already knew

what I was doing.

‘Places to say goodbye to,

this is my Leave Taking’,

I’ve written in thick texta

and then drawn all the places

where I’ve camped so far.

Emmy smiles. ‘Good idea Toby.’

Jaxon asks, ‘What was it like camping

in each spot? Were you scared? I would be!’

And I smile for the first time tonight.

Somehow I don’t care if my friends think

what I’m doing is weird,

not anymore.

But sometimes it’s good to have friends agree.

‘Only in the machinery shed,’ I say,

then I tell them about the mice, the hessian bags

and lastly the snake.

‘Yikes!’ shouts Jaxon and he’s jabbering on

about all the snake stories he knows

and I laugh.

Jaxon can be nearly as funny as Uncle Samuel.

I remember the errand I was running

for my uncle.

His wife, my Auntie Helen,

wipes her eyes as she hands me

a huge bowl of freshly chopped onions.

‘Chopping onions always makes me cry,’

she says with a watery smile,

and Mum hugs her.

It’s good Mum has some friends

with her too.

I show Emmy where the plates are

and we race back out to the BBQ.

We line up like everyone else

for salad, bread, meat.

Then our friends show what they’ve been cooking

all afternoon.

The slices, cakes, pavs and cheesecakes.

‘Wow!’ Jaxon lines up for seconds and thirds.

Then Mum brings out lemon meringue pie.

‘Leah’s favourite,’ is all she says.

Soon we are all full.

Trigger is having a ball,

jumping for meat scraps,

wagging his tail so hard that it scrapes

the dirt and pushes puffs of dust into the night air.

Uncle Samuel is trying to get Trigger

to roll over before he gives him a scrap of meat.

But the cats hide; they don’t like strangers.

Jaxon’s dad

cleans up the BBQ,

and Uncle Samuel sits and begins to tune his guitar.

Soon he’s singing and we’re joining in.

An owl flies from the old sugar gums.

And the bonfire hisses

and smoke curls up as high

as the night stars. It’s like tinsel tonight,

and away towards the south there is a small

seam of light from the nearest town.

We are leaving.

Goodbye cowshed, machinery shed,

hayshed, chook pen, old red truck,

Memorial Hill, old black smithy shed,

blue wrens, magpies.

Goodbye sugar gums, White Tail, Streak,

kingfishers, dam, old pig sties, dairy cows,

tree house, galahs, old mother cat,

deep well, fruit trees …

I run out of special things to farewell.

Emmy and Jaxon curl up on the cushions and rugs

Mum has placed away from the fire

and Shelley creeps softly to Emmy.

I lie down near Trigger and close my eyes.

Uncle Samuel has stopped playing and singing.

Jaxon’s dad is talking to Dad,

putting a hand on his shoulder

and Mum is surrounded by neighbours

talking softly. I hear Leah’s name,

my name, but I am drifting.

Pa puts a rug around me and later

I hear cars starting up, someone shovelling all

the stray bits of wood and ash back into

the still-burning bonfire.

I hear Auntie Helen say, ‘I’ll help wash those dishes.’

Dad lifts me and carries me

to my bed. I feel his kiss on my forehead,

and then I am asleep.

 

Next morning, Uncle Samuel is cooking bacon

and eggs. He and Auntie Helen are

helping with the shift today, organising the boxes

already stacked for when the removal van comes to the house,

and the semitrailer

for the beef cattle,

and a truck for the tractors we are taking.

‘Great evening Toby!’ grins Uncle Samuel.

‘Hey, love the map you made. I was reading it

while you were still snoozing. Can’t say

I remember half those places on the farm,

but then I was never a farmer like your dad.

Leah would have loved your map.’

‘Yes, she would Toby,’ smiles Mum warmly.

I haven’t seen Mum smile like that for a long time.

‘The map was a great idea.

I’ve been too caught up with grief for Leah

to help you through this.’

Mum comes to give me

my good morning hug.

‘But Dad and I can’t stay here any longer.

We need a fresh start,

need to make new memories.’

Dad walks in then, still in his work clothes

and smelling like the cowshed. But comes straight

over and hugs me.

And there we are with bacon sizzling, the smell

of cow manure on Dad’s clothes,

Auntie Helen smiling at us

and Uncle Samuel yelling out,

‘Hold it. This will make a great photo.’

And he snaps us just like that

in the middle of our last morning here

on Deep Well Farm. Trigger comes

charging in; he senses something.

And Pa walks in. He smells like

smoke from the bonfire. ‘Just dampening

down the coals – lots of rubbish still burning.

It was the biggest bonfire I’ve seen.’

And I know I need to record that on my map.

I take it down from the wall and write,

then I place it in my backpack.

‘Can’t forget it,’ I say.

‘Well, that was the last milking.

The O’Briens will take over for tonight’s milking.’

And I know it has been just as hard for Dad

to decide to shift.

Mum hugs me tighter and

I feel the large swell of the new baby

growing in her tummy.

‘Toby, after we go to our new farm,

in a few weeks’ time you will have a brother.

We haven’t had much time to talk about

the coming baby,

but I thought you could help me choose some drawings

of Leah’s to make a mural for his room.

What do you think?’

I don’t know whether to pull away

or hug more.

Instead, I take a deep breath

and say, ‘Leah would have liked that.’

And suddenly I realise that I would like that too.

Then Uncle Samuel starts singing,

Trigger barks,

the kettle whistles furiously

and Pa says, ‘I can hear the first truck coming off

the highway. Better get some breakfast down.’

And we all sit and Auntie Helen is talking about

making a patchwork quilt for the baby,

and Pa leans across to me

and says, ‘We won’t be leaving Leah behind,

she will be coming with us,’ and he gently punches

his chest, right where his heart is beating.

‘Here’s something for you,’ says Uncle Samuel

as he ruffles my hair, just like my dad does.

‘Your mum told me about your

Leave Taking map on the phone the other day,

so I thought you might like to write in this

and call it “Making a New Beginning”. Well, just a suggestion.’

And he chuckles as I pull the wrapping paper away from a thick notebook.

As I eat my toast I open up the book

and write:

‘Our goodbyes are nearly done.

But we’ll never leave Leah.

She will always be with us.’

I take out my texta and add a thick smiling mouth.

Leah would have liked that.