A moment of silence
For the first time in years, he decides to stop digging.
Image credits: Susanna Pang
17 July 2021
This is my dad.
He noticed that the timber encasing our garden bed had become speckled with pale green mold, and the weeds from the grass had gained a foothold in the soil and begun crawling up the fence. We started the garden bed when I was about six and it used to have strawberries. My dad bought four discounted saplings from Bunnings — one plant for each of his children. But after those died and we all became busy, he decided to cover the whole thing up with pebbles.
When lockdown came, he took to gardening in an effort not to squander precious time. It was a way to keep his mind and hands busy. This garden bed was going to get a makeover — the wooden sleepers would be replaced with brand new ones and inside we would grow wintermelon to steam for dinner in December.
As he’s shovelling out the dirt, you can count the years that have gone by on the sun spots on his face. They’re mostly on the right. Soldered in and bumpy after years spent working behind the steering wheel, driving in circles and loops around Sydney, picking up and dropping off passengers from Monday to Sunday.
Then, for a moment,
He sits down.
And for the first time in years, he decides to stop digging.
No more waking up at dawn and eating microwaved buns with one hand, the other on the wheel.
No more lining up at the taxi rink at the airport or in front of posh hotels.
No more waiting and waiting and waiting for the next fare.
No more disgruntled passengers.
No more business calls in the back seat.
No more stickered-up suitcases from tourists travelling from a country he can’t pronounce.
No more sudden clicks of the pager mid-lunch.
No more late afternoon calls to pick up the kids from the train station.
No more empty seats at the dinner table,
and missed calls,
and cold food,
and the jangle of keys at midnight after sending drunk men in white-collared shirts home to Rushcutters Bay.
No more cracked bowls and broken spoons.
In this moment, he sits still.
In silence.
By himself.
For himself.