Memories of Nan
Memories of Nan My Nan’s place was a repository of so many memories, an unassuming home built of weatherboard and fibro sheeting, painted in two distinct shades of pink. A circular pathway surrounding a rose garden, led from the gate to the front door. I can still clearly picture Nan standing in that doorway. A small woman with snow white hair, the hem of her apron clasped in her hands.
The Journey I started this journey at the Katherine Post Office in the heart of the Top End of outback Australia. A rather burly, weathered looking fella, who in complete contrast to his appearance, placed me gently, almost lovingly onto the counter. A nondescript box shaped parcel, covered in brown paper, the address label homemade and stuck to me with glue. The security information was completed with an indecipherable signature, the appropriate number of stamps affixed. With a last touch, I was handed to the post office clerk who tossed me into the large mail bag just in time to be bundle up; wheeled on the trolley around to the back of the Shell service station and loaded onto the Greyhound bus headed for Darwin.