The
mole
'Mum,
why are there train tracks on the beach?'
A
cool day with clouds scudding briskly across the sky. I am walking on
the beach with sandals on my feet leaking the cold sand inside. Mum
has warmly wrapped me against the cold of a Dunedin summer in my
woolly coat and we hold hands against the gusting wind.
We
go along the road and look at the mole as it forges its way out into
the boisterous waves. I am aware of the smell of seaweed, the
screaming gulls overhead and the stony sand beneath my feet laced
with bits of broken shell.
'There
was a little train that carried the rocks out to build the mole,'
said Mum
We
walk out onto the causeway and look at the sea and the lighthouse and
the birds. The wind whips my hair across my face.
I
don't remember the rest of that walk. I was 18 months old, on holiday
with my parents at Aramoana, and interested in absolutely everything.
2 comments:
I don't think I can remember anything from that early in my life.
And I can feel the cold wind while reading this piece!
The next piece is very different.
I have all sorts of odd memories floating around from pretty much all my life. This isn't the earliest but the earlier ones don't tell a story. I thought it would be interesting to interleave these memories into the present situation.
viv
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