Passing Through
By John Godwin
The town cemetery is right alongside the 80kph sign; a large number of weathered headstones,
some still vertical, and a mound splashed with the fading colour of recent tributes.
As is often the case in country towns the sign to the tip is next, just before the 50kph sign.
The school car park has one car and the shady tree in the yard shelters a handful of children from the
sun as they eat their lunch. A Mobil servo is boarded up, there is a ute with two dogs outside the pub,
the stock and station agent yard is surrounded by permanent-looking temporary security fencing,
and the small shed between the two tennis courts has a marked lean.
All the signs seem to be saying, “why stop here?”, but here’s the Family Store, brightly painted and with
a shady verandah on three sides, a small garden full of well-watered shrubs, and a blackboard sign with the chalked
invitation – “Welcome. Fresh sandwiches and real coffee”.
As we step through the door, Margaret introduces herself with a welcoming smile and then a cheery “g’day”.
We chat about the weather, destinations and distances, and the town. 20 years ago, 600 people; today, less than 100.
We remark on the splash of colour in the cemetery and make a smart comment that the population must just have gone down by one.
Margaret sags slightly, catches her breath for a second, and then regains her cheer. Her husband Hugh died three weeks ago.
Both lived in this outback town from birth, and as Margaret tells it, neither would have changed that at all.
For several years their daughters have wanted mum and dad to move to the city to be near their grandchildren but they
procrastinated, always finding reasons to stay – reasons caught up with years of dreams and few disappointments,
of mates and memories, and of the satisfaction that comes with belonging to their community.
“This little business still means a lot to people . . . and to me. But who’d want to take it on now?
Old grumbleguts was ready to move on but I wasn’t. He did move on didn’t he? Maybe now it’s my time?”
Margaret will take her own counsel and make her mind up in her own time.
Whatever her decision, it’ll be right for her.
We say goodbye, walk around a couple of town blocks trying to soak up more of the feeling of this isolated place,
and then drive slowly out of town in silence. Past the 80kph sign. Still slowly past the 100kph sign.
Only when a semi-trailer is reflected in the rearview mirror do we speed up and away from Margaret and her town.
We’ve had an experience, and it adds a little to our understanding, but in the end we are just passing through.
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