by Pat Ritter
years before. After her passing I never intended to find anyone else. I’ll never forget a fortnight before she died; she said to me, ‘I want you to find someone else’. I couldn’t believe my ears. Fate has a funny way of directing us where to go.
After thirty-one years of marriage, being in love, worshipping the ground she walked on; another lady came into my life. She lost her husband only ten weeks after my wife passed on. I couldn’t believe my feelings toward this person. Was I falling in love again!
We declared our love for one another in a solemn moment of honesty and declaration. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever consider meeting another person to fall in love. I was happy to live my life alone.
Being in love again felt wholesome and divine to place my mind on another planet, this love rocketed through me like erupting volcano sending lava of love through my body and placing me on cloud nine.
We were adults. Our next stage of our relationship to share our declaration with our families, to tell each of our adult children, two each, how we found one another and fell in love.
Although at first each family member appeared overjoyed with our happiness, either didn’t condone our relationship, however, they didn’t jump with joy to witness their parents falling in love with another person, at their age.
We took their feelings on the chin. After three months into our relationship we decided to give our children time to accept our relationship and to ‘runaway’.
Where should we go? Who cares as long as we’re together and have a great time? Over the next couple of months we travelled the eastern side of Australia visited places neither of us had ever been before. This became bliss, no care, no worries and in love.
I remember one morning about two weeks into our journey when my new partner received a telephone call from her son, ‘where are you Mom?’
‘Overlooking Bass Strait on the northern end of Tasmania,’ my lover answered. I knew at that moment our running away wasn’t in vain. We’d accepted one another for who we are and intended to live the life we wanted.
This event happened eight and a half years ago and we’ve runaway many times since and enjoyed each time. Our children have ‘got used’ to their aged parents finding love at their ‘old’ age and if they can’t accept this love for us then too bad, we’ll runaway again.
Word count:438
Santa's Secret
Over the past sixty-six years I've been fascinated how Santa delivers presents to each child across the world in one night. Way back as far as I care to remember, probably my sixth Christmas I waited until twelve midnight for Santa to place a gift under the Christmas Tree.
Before he arrived at my home he must've sprinkled sleeping dust because I slept through the whole visit without seeing him. He'd drank the glass of milk I left and ate the biscuit I placed on a plate beside the milk. Next morning when I awoke to find a present under the Christmas tree addressed to me from him. Over the years Santa never appeared. I must be nice for him to leave a present I wanted?
What was his secret? How did he deliver all of those presents to children across the globe in one single night? I took it upon myself to find the solution to this puzzling question. First I searched to find his home. The North Pole I discovered after much reading. We didn't have computers in my day so I visited the local library to seek out where the North Pole is located.
Santa's Secret became my obsession. Where he lived and once a year left his home with his reindeers headed by his favourite, Rudolph to deliver presents throughout the night to all homes. Before I went to bed on Christmas night I searched the sky for Santa and Rudolph. To no avail he must've been delivering his presents on the other side of the world and would reach my home before I woke next morning.
As clear as clockwork the next morning there under our Christmas tree my present. How am I going to solve this problem? On the 25th December each year exactly the same happened after I went to bed to wake the following morning. The present under the tree. Didn't matter we moved houses and lived in a different city or town, exactly the same happened each year.
Growing older didn't make any difference for once a year my present would be found under the Christmas tree after Santa's visit the night before. At fifteen years old I thought I had the answer when around midnight on Christmas Eve I awoke to find presents under the Christmas tree. Someone left these presents. A shadow of a person left the room where the Christmas tree stood in the corner. I jumped from my bed to meet my father who walked towards his bedroom.
'What are you doing up this late?' His question puzzled me. I could ask him the same.
'I wanted to see Santa before he left.' My mind became suspicious when I noticed remains of milk around his mouth.
'He's come and gone and told me to drink the glass of milk and eat the biscuit you left him. If you go outside you may catch him flying home.'
I rushed outside and looked up into the sky. To my amazement a bright light far away shone brightly and thought to myself, that must be him. If only I'd got out of bed a couple of minutes earlier. I returned to bed and dreamed of my present from Santa.
Many years later after I married and had a family of my own I remembered the night I almost seen Santa. Thinking back to that particular night I thought of my father's actions and his belief to show me there was a Santa and he visited all of the children in the world. I still had a grave concern on how did he visit each child on Christmas Eve.
Recently I found my answer which has puzzled me since I was six years old. On television there is an advertisement showing Santa sitting comfortably in his chair after delivering his presents to all of the children in the world. Mrs Claus asked him, 'how did you deliver all of those present?'
He replied, 'I bought a Jeep.'
After sixty-six years I finally found my answer to Santa's Secret.
Word count: 682
Send In The Clowns
A circus with wild animals, acrobats, and clowns were the highlight of the year.
Excitement rushed through my veins each time we heard a circus coming to our town of Roma. Eager to witness the huge tent pitched, my mate and I gathered at the grounds to witness the many workers going about their chores.
My friend Jimmy and I watched the cavalcade of vehicles arrive so we wouldn’t miss anything. This became our annual adventure witnessing the rising of the tent, hammering in steel spikes, thickness of a man’s arm, fastening ropes to hold everything in place.
Apart from the excitement witnessing this event coming together watching people do their normal tasks like ants working together to make a show for the townsfolk, our eyes bulged from their sockets when wild lions roared from their cages.
Time for the show, Jimmy and I wanted to go. We knew our parents couldn’t afford the costs so each Sunday we collected soft drink bottles from around the football grounds and cashed them in to receive sixpence per bottle. Between us we saved enough to attend the circus and buy a drink and peanuts.
We sat on the bottom row of old wooden seats in front where the performers entered the centre. A roar from the crowd alerted the beginning. Each seat filled to capacity. The Ringmaster welcomed everyone and shouted ‘on with the show’ through a megaphone.
First to enter the ring were small horses with monkeys riding them. Around the centre of the circle each horse galloped with a small monkey holding on tight. Next to arrive were the trapeze artists who swung between poles, catching each other by the arms or legs. Our hearts almost jumped from our chests to witness their skills.
‘Send in the clowns’ a roar from the crowd erupted when five funny looking clowns dressed in baggy attire entered the centre ring. One clown held a water bucket, ran over to where Jimmy and I sat and threw the contents of the bucket over us. Everyone laughed and cheered when pieces of paper showered over us instead of water. The show went on until midnight.
More than fifty-five years has passed since Jimmy and I visited the circus in our town of Roma and we still laugh when the crowd called out, ‘sen
d in the clowns’ and the moment we were drenched with paper instead of water; wonderful memories of a great childhood when a circus visited our town.
Word count:421
Sound Of The Distant Train
When growing up in our childhood danger never crossed our minds. Like for instance catching yabbies at the local dam whilst holding onto a piece of string with a lump of meat tied to the end, we enjoyed each moment especially when a yabby grabbed hold of the meat with its claw and wouldn’t let go.
One of the ways to release the yabby, to grab it by the back of the neck and pull until it let go of the meat, quite a struggle, then when the yabby broke loose, place the yabby into a bucket with the others already captured cover with water and weeds. Each moment enjoyed. I doubt if children today would be allowed to do similar outings on their own. Our parents had no idea where we went as long we arrived home before dark and no questions asked.
Another trick we got up to by placing a penny coin on the railway line when the sound of the distant train approached. I remember three of us would place a penny coin at different intervals along the track when we heard the approaching train in the distance.
After placing our pennies on the track, we’d hide in the bushes and wait for the train to approach and see which of the penny coins flattened the most. Our hearts almost leaped from our chest in