A combined collection of birthdays. Five granddaughters. The grandchildren range in age from one to 16 years. I want to take the traditional grandchildren photo. Charlie’s head is nearly out of the photo. He’s so tall. Oscar is close to reaching him. They all gather. In the middle is plonked one-year-old Evie. She has no idea what is happening but there’s a wide smile on her sweet face. She knows she is safe and she’s loved.
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Melbourne on Saturday was the dance concert. Three granddaughters performed this year. Gabrielle, the oldest, in five items; four contemporary, one traditional. I have taken her to ballet concerts for years. She looks exquisite on stage in a pink tutu, dancing in disciplined formation to Tchaikovsky’s beautiful lushly romantic Swan Lake. I surprise myself. I’m in floods of tears.
I am plaiting shy Lucy’s long thick hair. Not her mother’s hair at all. Where does she come from? It must be her father’s side of the family. Her face lights up as she speaks about the dance we will see her in.
Olive, seven-years-old and very nervous – her first time on stage. A wig of curls is attached to her own wild curly hair. She too is shy. She springs to life and throws herself completely in the moment, responding to the music and losing herself in the dance and the movement.
After the concert, I sit quietly with Charlie, this teenager with ‘L’ plates already, as he lists his subjects for the coming year.
I’m awed by his choices. He appears to take it all in his stride. His mother mutters darkly ‘He might just need to do some work next year.’ He grins sheepishly. He knows what he has to do. It will happen. He still has another year up his sleeve after that.
I stay with one of the families.
In the bedroom is Elliot’s latest creation. It’s a garbage chute.
Rolls of paper taped to the bedroom wall and scrunched paper balls ready to be rolled down the chute. It’s a different invention each time I visit.
His imagination defies his casual interest in day-to-day school.
He is the future. The jobs for him are not yet invented.
His older brother Oscar already knows exactly where he is heading – straight into computer land. Like father, like son.
Their communication has no English I am familiar with. They speak another language altogether. They communicate, glued to their computers, by an internal phone connection between rooms in the home and in no way that I can comprehend.
Nicholas is my birthday challenge.
He is the natural sportsman his father always dreamt of.
His father was good, but Nick’s looking to outstrip him already.
Nick has a birthday on Christmas Eve. We all make sure this day is special and his presents are separate, one for birthday, one for Christmas.
He hopes one day to make the Boxing Day pilgrimage to the cricket.
His dad’s been counting down the years.
Sister Millie spends her time on the new trampoline. Olive inherits the old one. Both cousins are happy with the outcome. Millie lives for gymnastics.
I close my eyes when she back-somersaults on the beam, graceful and balanced. I hold my breath. A new school for Millie next year. New challenges. We hope the transition will be easy.
We’re the ‘off’ year this year.
Boxing Day is our day. We’ll all be together again.
It can’t come soon enough.
ANNIE YOUNG
