Just had a wonderful week celebrating my son's marriage. I wish he didn't live so far away, but I'm content that he's settled and embraced by another family who clearly adore him. Makes this Mom very happy for him and their future. It has really made me think about how little time we spend with our extended families. We catch meals together, spend hours chatting, but we rarely have days to reconnect properly. Apart from the wedding going off without a hitch, we all got so much out of just staying together.
Thanks to Ipsita, who cast her eyes over the chapter while I was off having a good time.
I wake to the breeze from the ceiling fan, and Masen running his hand over my back. I love that the first thing I see is his curls.
He kisses my forehead. "I love the way you smile when you open your eyes."
Nuzzling his neck, I wrap a leg over him, getting as close as I can. "I love waking up next to you."
Relaxing into the sensation of his fingers on my skin, I'm almost drifting off to sleep again when he speaks.
"Last night, you said you want a baby girl just like Bree, but you also said you want a son with my curls. How many kids are we planning, Bella?"
He really does listen to what I say.
"Two. Three. Our kids won't have cousins, and I don't want to create another single-child generation.'
He nods, and I believe we feel the same about this subject.
"I understand Mom choosing not to have more babies when Dad was away so much, but you and I are in a very different situation, and I expect our kids will adapt to our way of life. I love that Jasper bought a mobile home so he can spend more time with his family."
Masen plays with my hair. "My parents wanted more kids, but there were two miscarriages after me, both girls and in the second trimester. I vaguely remember Mom sobbing and saying she wouldn't survive the loss of another one, and they stopped trying after that."
Now I understand why Esme so readily threw herself into helping me choose a wedding dress, and her flying to Melbourne when Rose was missing. "I'm so sorry."
"Yeah, especially when she didn't find out about her own mother until she was basically an adult."
"How did she find out?" I ask.
"Mom inherited her asthma from Nana. The old boy had told them it was hay fever from living with dust and sheep, and never sought a proper diagnosis. Mom had come home for a visit when Nana had a pretty severe attack, and she took her to hospital.
"The doctor who treated her was concerned there was no medical history on file, and after thoroughly questioning them, asked how they were related. He'd made an assumption based on the fact that they were together, and asthma runs in families. Just so you know, I haven't got it. I've been tested several times to stop Mom worrying she's passed it on to me.
"Anyway, Nana told her everything before they returned to the farm, and Mom was ready to murder him, but Nana made her promise not to admit she knew anything. His wife was dying of cancer at the time, and Nana had been suggesting for a while that naming Mom as his legal heir would protect the farm from the government deciding how to distribute his legacy.
"Nana knew how to manipulate him, and she taught Mom to stay in his good graces, inhabiting the role of the dutiful daughter. It began with her asking if she could call him father now she was an adult, and he quite liked that. Mom would serve him his favorite meals whenever she visited, and soon she would only have to mention something she wanted for him to get his wallet out.
"When Mom went to university, he allowed Nana a little more freedom to travel to Sydney, and Mom would always book a fancy hotel. They used the time to visit doctors, and the news that Nana was diabetic made Mom furious for all the years he had neglected them."
It's such a window into Esme's psyche, and it makes me wonder how many times her mother had to tell the story of the black swan to keep her daughter focused on the goal.
"She's been through a lot, Masen."
"Now you know why it took her weeks to invite Dad to sit down in that cafeteria. She doesn't let her guard down easily. Seems like you've broken through, though."
I smile, feeling honored that Esme and Masen are comfortable sharing such personal stories with me, trusting me to treat their secret family business with respect.
-0-
Charlotte and I are in Myer at Bondi Junction so she can try on bridesmaid's dresses. I offered to keep Bree entertained, but Esme wanted to look after her, and Charlotte agreed, showing Gemma she can loosen her grip on their baby.
Gemma suggesting they choose their own dresses has worked very well for our situation. When Alice agreed to be a bridesmaid, I gave her the link to Pilgrim Clothing to make her selection first. There were several styles in the same four colors, and I asked her to choose something with a bigger and smaller size available in case we made a mistake with the Australian sizing. I called Pilgrim first, and they confirmed I could return anything we didn't want.
Alice chose the sleeveless high neck with the keyhole back and midi-length crossover skirt. From the front, the wide frill was all girl, showing plenty of leg, and the back was sheer elegance. Alice was quite confident she was a 12, but it was also available in a 10 and 14 in sand and burgundy, and from the pictures online, the burgundy color was a mix of pink and brick red.
I didn't try to influence them with my own choice of color, especially when they were doing this in a hurry from three different locations, but I really did like the pinky red, and was pleased when Rose chose the halter neck with the tulip skirt in navy or burgundy.
"Do I look top heavy?" Charlotte asks, wearing the style with the capped sleeves in navy.
"Not at all." I'm so pleased with how happy and confident she seems. "You look fantastic!" I really mean it. She looks incredible.
"Can I try it on in the red, please?" she asks, and I bring her the burgundy version, knowing she's going to choose it when the universe is clearly taking over again.
I end up introducing my three bridesmaids to each other on FaceTime and announcing we're going with burgundy. When I tell them I'm paying for the dresses, they try to argue they will wear them again, but I want them to know how much I appreciate what they're doing for me.
By the time we end the video call, I'm happy with our plan for hair, makeup, and flowers. We're still having rose bouquets, but my bubblegum pink is now salmon for me and ivory for them, and we're adding an outer frame of seeded eucalyptus. We'll have a rosebud in each color for the buttonholes, and I like Alice's suggestion of extending the buttonholes to our mothers and Carlisle. I'll change the cake to match the new color scheme as well, because as Charlotte says, it's just food coloring.
It's been great having these three women alongside me. I don't know if I just got lucky, or because they don't have relationships with each other, but I never expected this to be so easy.
-0-
Two days of patchy rain have no impact on the fires or water restrictions, and there are new outbreaks happening all the time. As we brace for another heatwave, I start to wonder if Mom and Dad will see this city free from its blanket of smoke.
On previous visits to Sydney, we exercised in the mornings, running up the hill from Double Bay, or taking the glorious Bondi to Bronte Coastal Walk. This time, Esme has been so vocal about us damaging our lungs that Masen arranged a casual gym membership for me, and while I prefer to run and hike outdoors, watching him work on his upper body and core strength has been a tantalizing bonus.
And so has the dancing. We've made time most days to practice, with Masen adding more steps here and there, encouraging me to just goof it out with him. The playlist is coming along nicely, too, but we haven't found the song for our waltz yet. Our favorites either have lyrics too melancholy or inappropriate, or the beat isn't right, so we've marked the playlist as collaborative and shared it with everyone coming to the wedding. Hopefully, one of our guests will add the perfect song to the list.
Every few days there is something on the news about the spread of the coronavirus. Hundreds in China are now infected, and a handful have died. Carlisle says that SARS and MERS never reached Australia in the past, so we shouldn't be too worried, but he wants to know immediately if anyone is unwell, and he brought home a supply of face masks a few days ago.
I'm compelled and frightened watching the American news. I used to find the crazies amusing when I lived there, but I'm now seeing an increase in angry folks, quick to criticize and bully, overreacting and calling the cops at the drop of a hat. Having always had respect for the valiant work done by the police force, I'm concerned by their response to the escalating levels of tension and violence when some of them are clearly out of control. I hate that there are still school shootings dominating the news one week and forgotten the next when there doesn't seem to be anything happening to prevent it happening again. It seems insane when people in charge quote the second amendment in explaining why the problem is too complicated to tackle.
My heart is heavy when Donald Trump's impeachment receives all day coverage while they can only spare a few seconds to honor the three American volunteer firefighters killed battling the inferno in Australia's Snowy Mountains.
To me, it feels like the world is off-kilter.
-0-
We begin video calls with the team, planning the journey we'll start in South Australia under Angela Weber's watchful eye. She is eager for us to begin because she'll be analyzing the results of the DNA. Scratching each other's backs, we're collecting the samples and she's providing her expertise in interpreting the information. By giving us access to her, the center she works for is partially funding the project, so I will cooperate as much as I can. Under her guidance, we'll train in South Australia and once she's satisfied to let us operate on our own, we'll head off toward Western Australia.
The plan is to be in the Northern Territory for the start of winter, knowing the desert will be very different from when we were there at Christmas time, needing our Helsinki layers once the sun goes down. We anticipate returning to Adelaide in spring to assess the results.
Angela is unlike anyone I've ever met before, and we're all dying to meet her, especially Alec. In her world, everyone is either nunga (Aboriginal) or gunya (whitefellas like Jasper and me), and while she is impressed with Masen's grasp of the languages of the Western Desert, she reminds him to be prepared for others with only a few recognizable words picked up from blackfellas on walkabout.
Masen chuckles and nods when she reports that all First Nations people say "deadly" for excellent or good, and we'll hear "gubba" or "gummen" used to mean white blokes. Sadly, it originated from the warning cry heard when the government men showed up to take kids away.
I tell her I'd like to portray those words shouted in fear, the sound of a car pulling up, a panicked decision made to flee with the children. She says it's more likely they knew what was coming, that Masen's grandmother's name would have been sitting on some government agency list. Once the authorities ascertained that her father was white, she became a prime candidate for assimilation.
Angela shares examples of words unique to her clan and suggests we record patterns we observe as we travel around. She sees markers in language the same way we use DNA, and I acknowledge it could add weight to the evidence we're gathering.
While Masen will do the talking, she encourages the rest of us to show respect by learning the local greeting, as we should when visiting any foreign culture. She recommends we research the community, country, people, and protocols used, always seeking someone to introduce us. We must be clear and honest about what we're gathering and what we intend to do with it and have patience to wait for permission to proceed. We should be submissive with all new people, and I must never expect a meeting with elders of a community. It's not that women are inferior, but everyone starts from a position of mistrust.
"Masen has already explained that to me, so I believe I understand."
"Believe me, Bella, it will take much time to understand one of the most subtle yet complex cultures on earth. I'm forever amazed by how resilient we are when so many mourn the loss of 60,000 years of culture. You know, the British came here and took our land under the premise that it belonged to no one, claiming rights to settle based on the impermanent nature of our communities. The officers may have recorded in their journals that they attempted peaceful co-existence and sought to gain local knowledge, but they invaded this country just like they did in other parts of the world, establishing the new colony from the world they left behind. While they might have been able to take off their coats and roll up their sleeves for more months of the year, they never tried to respect, learn, or adapt the way we did.
"The indigenous population gained nothing from the introduction of white society. It sought to erase our culture and language and left us disadvantaged in a modern world we didn't need, decimating us with introduced disease. Those of us who rose up to fight back were soon exterminated by poisoning and shooting, so, yeah, there is much to mourn. Even worse, they expect us to commemorate the date the British raised their flag to claim our country as their own and call it our Australia Day. If the government is truly sorry for what was done in the past, then it must find another day for us to celebrate as one nation."
Everyone is solemn, and Masen and I glance at each other, not knowing what to say to her. Luckily, she shakes her head and quickly moves on.
"Just know that when you hear someone using words like heathen and savage, it means they weren't quiet enough to listen and learn. Try not to fall into generalities surrounding Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. You will see blacks affected by booze and drugs, just as you would in any society, but we are statistically more likely to abstain than the non-indigenous population.
"Never underestimate the importance of the Dreaming to Aboriginal people—how it links us to our cultural heritage and flows through all connections between family, community, ancestors, and land. The Dreaming is the past, present, and future, providing our moral code and rules for living with each other, as well as interacting with the natural world.
"You'll learn that you don't have to be a great painter to communicate through art, and that there is no such thing as a bad dancer in indigenous ceremonial dance. Our own performance is secondary to participating in a sacred ceremony that honors our elders and keeps the stories of our people alive."
After digesting Angela's guidance, I apologize to Masen for being so self-centered about dancing at our wedding, and I promise to never let thinking I'm not good enough stop me from participating again.
-0-
Masen's tux comes back from the dry cleaners after needing no alterations. The four boys will wear the suits they had tailored for Randall's wedding, which took place in Melbourne a couple of weeks before I met Masen. Esme is happy now, and we spend many nights discussing how we might incorporate aspects of her family's history anonymously into the documentary.
She wants us to highlight the fact that the stolen generations were not a thing of the distant past because it was still happening as late as the 70's.
She admits that Clarice's father has always been a mystery, that there were suspicions a sheep shearer was probably the culprit. Gunny left Cootamundra as a seventeen-year-old and came back a year later with a baby. She never said where she went or who looked after her during the pregnancy, but the family didn't shun her once she returned. Never admitting that Clarice was hers, there was no birth certificate ever lodged, and she never had a man in her life after.
During these evenings, Esme likes to play her music, explaining chapters of her past through songs she's enjoyed over the years. Masen has played some of them before, but I'm really liking Men At Work, and when I hear a band called Cold Chisel, it's hard to believe they never had success in the States.
-0-
The day before our appointment with the tattooist, we FaceTime with Makenna and Serena. We had asked Serena to think about where we might place our tattoos, and she shows us a drawing of mine on my right inner foot and Masen's at the same spot on his left. When I ask if she's chosen the spot for a reason, she struggles to answer in English, and Makenna tries to interpret.
"The more they touch, the stronger your love," Makenna explains, after confirming what Serena is trying to convey. She is clearly as puzzled as we are.
It's not until we go to bed that I realize I fall asleep cuddled into Masen's side, with my right inner foot on or very close to his left. Serena could not have known this, nor understood that only a couple very much in love would sleep in this intimate position.
Reminded once again that external forces are at work in our universe, we anxiously await our wizard at the jewelers, and all three rings cast an instant spell on my heart. From the moment Masen slips the engagement ring on my finger, I can't stop admiring it, and I love the alchemy of my grandmother's gold in his wedding ring. That night, I give Masen his first-ever manicure. He often watches me do my nails, so it's nice to pamper him for once.
"What?" I ask when I feel him staring, not at his fingers but at my face. He doesn't answer, making me curious enough to ask. "Is this weird?"
"Not at all," he responds with a slow shake of his head, and I hesitate before going back to his cuticles. He's still staring when I look up again and see him smile.
I wonder if he'll always make me blush when he looks at me this way, if I'll always melt and want to wrap my arms around him.
-0-
Mom is amazed at how big the diamond looks in its new setting, and she loves my totally extravagant diamond wedding band.
She also approves of the cake I ordered, reassuring me that I'm not letting her down by not wearing a hat on my head. When I pick up my wedding dress, Carmen helps me match Grandma Swan's earrings with sprigs of ivory pearls and rhinestones. They are exactly what I wanted, and I don't need anything else to finish my outfit. It's perfect as it is.
Dad has only one request. He says he has always imagined walking me down the aisle to "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You." It doesn't have to be Elvis, and he's happy to go with the Haley Reinhart version with the simple piano against the haunting, husky tones in her voice.
Between work and the wedding, we manage a few trips to the beach, where Masen finally shows me he can handle a surfboard, and we spend a glorious afternoon with Charlotte, Gemma, and Bree's father, Jared, picnicking at a scenic harbor beach called Parsley Bay. It was a last-minute invitation on a slightly cooler day when they decided Bree should have her first swim in the safety of the shark-netted cove. Bree screamed when anyone tried to take her into the water, but was very content, almost able to sit up on her own, feeling the gentle waves wash over her legs and, to Charlotte's dismay, eating handfuls of sand.
Discovering new music on our playlist, we have no way of knowing who added them, and no one to thank for introducing us to a song that neither of us knew. Paul McCartney sang "Maybe I'm Amazed" with such emotion that I had to know the story behind it. We watched a documentary about Paul and Linda McCartney's love story, how the Brit married an American photographer who supported him through the breakup of the Beatles, giving him a loving home in rural Scotland away from the madness of the London fans. They were happily married for thirty years, working and playing together, having raised four children, when she lost her battle with breast cancer. I don't know if it's the depth of his love for her or the way she was taken from him, but I'm still upset when we go to bed that night.
While the song has made me focus on making my husband happy, it's too sad for our wedding dance. The one we do choose has been on the playlist all along, and Masen only had to prove it's not too fast for our waltz. We both love Queen, and this is an epic song that everyone will know.
I'm actually looking forward to it, now.
Thanks for reading xo
