As it was my daughter's writing that inspired me to put “pen
to paper” (never so figuratively as it has now become), I want to keep collaborating and sharing
our love of writing fiction.
So we have decided to regularly write a creative short story based
on the same inspiration. Here is our first collaboration: Growth
- See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/All%20the%20Stories%20Matter#sthash.zml3SlZT.dpuf
As it was my daughter's writing that inspired me to put “pen
to paper” (never so figuratively as it has now become), I want to keep collaborating and sharing
our love of writing fiction.
So we have decided to regularly write a creative short story based
on the same inspiration. Here is our first collaboration: Growth
- See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/All%20the%20Stories%20Matter#sthash.zml3SlZT.dpuf
As it was my daughter's writing that inspired me to put “pen
to paper” (never so figuratively as it has now become), I want to keep collaborating and sharing
our love of writing fiction.
So we have decided to regularly write a creative short story based
on the same inspiration. Here is our first collaboration: Growth
- See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/All%20the%20Stories%20Matter#sthash.v4tHXvUo.dpuf
As it was my daughter's writing that inspired me to put “pen
to paper” (never so figuratively as it has now become), I want to keep collaborating and sharing
our love of writing fiction.
So we have decided to regularly write a creative short story based
on the same inspiration. Here is our first collaboration: Growth
- See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/All%20the%20Stories%20Matter#sthash.v4tHXvUo.dpuf
Always
the Same
Inspiration:
Mummy:
She sat in front of the broken washing machine pulling out
soaking wet clothes. It wasn’t meant to be like this thought Moana. She fished
out a sodden little turquoise and red sock with goldfish on it and looked at it
closely. It belonged to her youngest, Aroha. Four children later, how had it
come to this? She slipped in the foam and dropped to the floor, beaten, broken,
mentally exhausted, without the strength to stand and face this next challenge.
Her pasty white legs slid around on the wet concrete and she curled them around
under her. It had been so long since they had seen the sun or sand, their
coppery golden glean long gone, and as for pretty painted nails, well… she
laughed to herself. Trying less than half-heartedly to stand, she flopped
around in the foamy water and the tears began to fall. Salty smears across her
cheeks, falling to meet the foam on the floor, where they sat like little gems.
Sapphire, pounamu, aquamarine, turquoise, paua.
Colours of the sea now missing from her life. She had given up those
along with wild waves and sandy shores for love when she had moved from the
cove to the modern suburbia she found herself now living.
When she had seen Eric from afar on his fancy hired yacht,
he seemed to idolize everything she wanted in life. He and his silly mates had drunk too much and
gotten into trouble, and Moana had pulled him out when someone pushed him
overboard. Sophisticated with his oh-so fancy clothes and university degree,
when he finally dried out he was charming, civilized and quickly won her over
with his cheeky grin. He left her speechless. He told her all about his job at
the bank, following in his father’s footsteps; it was solid and secure,
everything she always wanted in her future. The different life she wanted for
her children. No worry about finding that next dollar. No endless roller coaster
of flush bustling summers where the tourists and weather made life a little
easier, followed all too rapidly by shivering through a lonely cold starving
winter.
Despite the hardships, she knew she was sacrificing a lot
when she moved to be with Eric. Her father had been gracious in giving her up,
though he had raged at first. When she
announced she was marrying a land-lover and moving to the city, he had refused
to believe it. He practically shook his entire towering 6’ 5’’ frame, face
reddening and those few extra kilos only adding to the daunting picture. But he
came around when he saw she did truly love Eric and was willing to give
everything up for him, even her sea legs. Moana and her father had together
lived a simple life all about the beach, their batch and his fishing trawler.
Moana had taken care of him, since her mother left when she was small. A fragile lady, his Pakeha bride as he liked
to say; she just couldn’t handle the harsh life and wasn’t in any way maternal.
They hadn’t heard from her since. So Moana worked hard from very young,
scrubbing the deck, bringing in the catch. Sorting, scrubbing, cleaning,
washing, and worrying when he wasn’t home and a storm appeared to be brewing.
The laundry then was
just as unforgiving then, as now with four small children. Only smellier and
larger. Blue overalls smeared with grease and guts, thick grey and white
socks that matted and grew hard slowly over time until they wore away to
nothing under the pressure of hard rubber gumboots. She had no dryer then
though, she remembered. She had to hang her father’s socks on the line, rising
early to get it done before the school bus arrived. Sometimes it was so cold
that the socks became frosty while sitting waiting in the basket. Her fingers were
made of icy moonstones those mornings, and took forever to warm up enough to
hold her pen at school.
She knew her father missed her terribly now, and when he
sold up and moved to a retirement unit in the little town up the hill from the
cove, she knew with a pang of guilt that her decision to leave had taken the
wind out of his sails, figuratively and literally. The last time she had braved
the long road trip and taken the kids down to visit, he had taken Aroha onto
his lap; she had run her fat baby
fingers through his grey beard, and touched his weathered face tenderly. He was
so proud of his mokopuna and they simply adored him. His eyes gleamed like
paua, glinting eagerly as he told her about that time they had seen a taniwha
during a wild storm, describing in detail how it had arrived climax of the
storm, when they thought they were truly done for, and even the weather was standing
in awe. Her little face alternated fear and excitement in unison with
descriptions of scaly skin, sharp talons and pounamu eyes that knew everything
and saw into your soul. In the wake of the storm, the catch that day had been
pure abundance, filled with every possible kai-moana. They had feasted on
oysters and cray until their pukus were round and full and their hearts burst
with thanks and amazement at the bounty provided by the sea, the master and
commander of their fortune.
But none of that now. Her fortune had changed with the
decision to marry Eric, but not in the way she had initially thought. She had stood
proudly on the yacht they again hired in a romantic tilt to the day they met.
Surrounded by friends and family in her beautiful gown, encrusted with hand
sown sea pearls her dad had called in all sorts of favours to purchase. She was
splendid in her chance to be that Disney princess, if only for a day. Everyone
had contributed, and they had feasted on a spread that would have fed most of
the locals for a week. Her cousin had
given her a beautiful black pearl necklace made from pearls he had collected himself
off the atolls of Manihiki, one of the outer Cook Islands,
before he had immigrated to New Zealand in search of work. She treasured it still, one of her few
remaining luxuries.
Fairy-lights had been hung around the deck and gave the
yacht an ethereal magical look and they danced long into the night, everyone so
proud and happy, if a little melancholic at the thought of her impending
departure. The sunset had been beautiful
that night, a ruby crown shattered by topaz slivers trapped within a horizon of
gold. It promised much, as had her marriage; both were long gone now.
When Eric’s father had driven his car into the bridge, Eric
was never the same. Nobody ever said the “s” word, but the pressures of the
recession had spoken for themselves. Eric started drinking and working long
hours at the bank, under the pretense of taking over from his father.
Everything she or the kids did irked him terribly. When he hired that pretty
blonde as a “lending assistant”, Moana knew it was a matter of time. She left
him before he left her. This time the leaving was easy. They spent a few long
nights at a no-star motel before he was kind enough to leave her and the kids
the house. Though even that was no gift with the leaky home problem she was now
facing. It was far from the magnificent castle she had thought when they bought
it together not long after the wedding. Twelve years ago today.
And now the washing machine was broken too. Her attention
again drawn to the foamy waves lapping at her cold wrinkling legs, she felt
strangely comforted by their touch. Life was again hard, but it was hers. Her
choices, her responsibilities, her loves, her passions. Her tears were jewels
that shouldn’t be wasted. As Aroha awoke from her nap, Moana realized that the
flood was just going to have to wait until she had picked up the other children
from school. She had weathered the storm, but run out of time. As she turned to
stuff the sock she was holding back into the machine, out of the corner of her
eye, she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of scaly skin and a pounamu eye.
Erin:
This is Rex doing the washing. Do you know where Rex's kitten is hiding?
Maori Language Glossary:
Moana - (name) from the sea
Aroha - (name) Love
Pounamu - Greenstone/Jade
Paua - Abalone
Paheka - New Zealander of European descent
Mokopuna - Grandchild
Taniwha - Water spirit, Sea Monster, Guardian of the water
Kai - Food
Kai-Moana - Food from the Sea
Puku - Stomach
Read more about what inspired our "all the stories matter" collaborations in creative writing here and here.
This is Rex doing the washing. Do you know where Rex's kitten is hiding?
Maori Language Glossary:
Moana - (name) from the sea
Aroha - (name) Love
Pounamu - Greenstone/Jade
Paua - Abalone
Paheka - New Zealander of European descent
Mokopuna - Grandchild
Taniwha - Water spirit, Sea Monster, Guardian of the water
Kai - Food
Kai-Moana - Food from the Sea
Puku - Stomach
Read more about what inspired our "all the stories matter" collaborations in creative writing here and here.
As it was my daughter's writing that inspired me to put “pen
to paper” (never so figuratively as it has now become), I want to keep collaborating and sharing
our love of writing fiction.
So we have decided to regularly write a creative short story based
on the same inspiration. Here is our first collaboration: Growth
- See more at: http://www.thisisawand.com/search/label/All%20the%20Stories%20Matter#sthash.v4tHXvUo.dpuf
What do you think of our stories ? Why not write one yourself inspired by this picture and share
your results with us here….
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