Member-only story
LIFE
A Drawer Full of Bones, A Hat Full of Sky
Raising a fearless daughter who can resist the ‘hivers’
My daughter’s place is three hours by the coast road, but I prefer to go the slow way, wending along a hinterland backroad threaded with little villages. Sometimes there is a general store selling local cottage crafts, or the kind of cafe that lures day-trippers from the Gold Coast, and every so often, a side road to a luxury retreat. The countryside is rich and so are the people of late, or else they are old farmers and battlers, deeply rooted in the soil. It’s a good day out on the motorbike.
The trees crowd in on me. Now and then I catch sight of Wollumbin. It was only ever Mount Warning when I was growing up, but now all our landmarks have a second, much older name. The hooded peak is the remnant of a volcanic plug. I’m riding inside the rim of a vast caldera. The exhaust pipe rumbles, and the ridge-line echoes with the memory of an ancient eruption. I back off and wind on, back off and wind on again.
I’m sweltering inside my jacket now. These slow, tight corners don’t generate enough airflow. I want to strip off this gear and dangle my legs in the Tweed River snaking below. There’s a steep drop to the water’s edge, so I’m waiting for the exact right place to pull over on the verge. Bend after…
