We pull out of Byron Bay and hit the highway. The air-con is going full blast and Alex and I half-joke that we could just drive and drive without stopping and that would be an acceptable outing today. We are on a mission to get through another heatwave. The temperature outside is 35C and it’s barely 11am…
Brunswick Heads is where we are headed, only 30minutes up
the road for us. In summer (and winter) the little seaside fishing hamlet is
one of our favourite places to take the girls.
We stop at the fishing co-op for chips first; Alex orders himself some
prawns too, caught that morning at the Tweed.
We wind our way along the river and it is here that we spend the rest of the day, splashing in the shallows formed by a sandbar that allows you to nearly cross the width of the river on foot.
We wind our way along the river and it is here that we spend the rest of the day, splashing in the shallows formed by a sandbar that allows you to nearly cross the width of the river on foot.
My childhood summers were spent just like this: exploring the
entrance of a lake that met the ocean a thousand kilometres south from this
place I now call home. I watch Melli grip onto Alex as they float together in
the deeper channel formed by the incoming tide and I remember doing exactly the
same thing as a kid, and learning the exact same lesson Melli was being taught
today by her dad: how to swim across a current, not against it. Over and over
again they float, swim back across the channel to the sandbar and then float
with the tide again.
I chase Maddison as she runs across the sand towards the
boat ramp. I catch up with her and explain why we don’t climb those rocks in
bare feet, pointing to where the sharp oyster shells cling. I know these things
from my own childhood. Lessons learned on long summer days perched on the rocks
near the bridge watching my dad shuck fresh oysters and laughing at me as I
scrunch up my nose (never liked oysters).
That was a different bridge, but it could be the same
bridge… see the girl jump off and splash heavily into the water below? For a
minute time stands still. The adult-me tenses and sucks in my breath, waiting
for her head to bob back up again, but the child-me can feel the sharp sting as
she hits the water and the cool rush as she plummets down, down… wondering if,
this time, her feet will touch the muddy sand below.
It’s a different beach entrance; A different bridge; a
different time. They are the children, I am the adult, but the salt in my girls’
hair is the same that I shook from my own as a child.
We share the same childhood memories now: Of summer days and
sandbars and salt.
And, how to ride a heatwave.
x
Megan
Beautiful! I know that same feeling of having a grown-up reaction but also remembering the carefree feeling of being a child. It's nice to hold onto that inner child. What a lovely spot to ride out a heat wave! x
ReplyDeleteI agree - and my girls constantly remind me if that inner child. One of the joys of being a parent.
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Missingham bridge in Ballina was our classroom , back when it was made of chippy white rickety timber, we'd ride our bikes from Lennox....Ah the memories!
ReplyDeleteAllison x
Glad you got a memory blast, Allison! Rickety bridges are surely some of the best places here on the North Coast. (There's still plenty of them to be found).
DeleteWe love Brunswick Heads too, and stopped there on the way home. The fruit topped tart from the bakery to die for and a perfect end to our holiday.
ReplyDeleteThe bakery is indeed heavenly. You just reminded me to stop there next time we visit Bruns.
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Beautiful post. I love the way you write.
ReplyDeleteSounds like a perfect way to escape the heat, xx
That is such a lovely thing to say. Thank you, Sarah.
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