I am being eaten alive by nostalgia.

Bonfire days. Getting splinters and crying. Jumping jack bites. Covered in dirt, cow poo, smelling of smoke and ash. Riding on the lawn mower, in the back of the Ute, screeching into the night. Sneaking away from the fire and star gazing. Wanting to stay the night but being forced to go home. Talent shows, dress ups, charades, plays, dancing, elaborate stories and adventures. Swinging across the dam, mud fights, sand pies, swings and cubby houses. Gardening days, overalls, raking up leaves for the fire pile, listening to footy on the radio and eating meat pies. Running around half naked, summer water fights, zooper doopers, pool parties. Collecting sticks, marshmallows cooked to perfection, blasting Dad’s music. Playing Barbie dress up games on the computer, writing pen-pal letters, collecting stickers and doing personality quizzes. Lexile reading scores, Mathletics, QuickSmart, dictation and spelling tests. Murder in the dark, pole-tiggy, forty-forty, cops and robbers, kiss chasey. Feeling smart for reading chapter books, waiting for the mobile library, afterschool care, blanket forts, walking to the milkbar. All that pre-high-school shit.

free writing - March 2025