Invite your grandson to have lunch with you. Tell him to bring his girlfriend. Your daughter has told you about her, warned you to keep your opinions on her dark skin to yourself because it’s his choice and she’s a lovely girl and he’s happy, Mum, but you’ll be the judge of that. He will suggest going out for lunch, or bringing it with him. Continue reading
My tongue rolls over the gum where my tooth used to be, pushing the suture into the fold of my cheek. It’s no longer numb from the anaesthetic and pain relievers. There’s an ache that hunkers in my jawline, striking out towards the gum when I’m least prepared.
When I was seven I started a new school. My fourth in three years. My third in Australia. I’d learned from the mistakes of the first two schools and was well on the way to camouflage. I had set down the heavy Malayalee-Malay accent I’d arrived with a little over a year previously. I’d flattened and nasalised my vowels, and let my final consonants fall surreptitiously by the wayside. Continue reading
I just got back from walking the dog and am seated at the long wooden table on the balcony with my second espresso, reflecting on my family talent for collecting strangers. We’ve always done it. Some of the collections have been more successful than others.
Hooray! It’s the 1st of April and this is not an April Fool’s joke. April’s an important month in my world.
On the corner of the block, at the meeting of two streets, at the end of the lane lived Veronica and Dorothy. Non and Dor, as they were known to everyone in the neighbourhood, were two delightful older women who shared a home. They’d been friends for most of their lives, and when Non’s husband died, Dor moved into her house for company.
Arse over tea-kettle, and over I went. Legs swept from under me, roller skating mid-air like Wyle E. Coyote caught off a cliff, then down with a wallop.