In the streets of my father’s soul! – Vivienne Thomas

Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS writer.

I am in the streets of my father’s childhood. I feel the spirits of the children, the mates playing, sounds of kids yelling, shouting, laughing. I feel at home, a sense of belonging, being somewhere that is at once familiar, and unknown. He walked these streets at all hours , day and night. He walked these streets alone, with mates, his family , girlfriends . He walked these streets while happy, sad, angry, bereft, suspicious, joyful. The sounds of the trams on Lygon. The siren sounding on a cold Saturday afternoon at Princes Park. The sounds of Italian, and  Greek being spoken across the side fences. The sounds of horses’ hooves clopping on the bluestones, delivery the milk bottles in the dawn light. Walking to the Milk Bar, buying lollies, milk and bread. Someone’s dinner cooking down the street, always smelt better than what was on offer at home. The sense of a village, a neighbourhood, knowing you always had someone to rely on, for anything you might need.
I am in the streets of my father’s childhood. I sense his loss, his longing for the parents he never knew, can’t remember,and feels disconnected from. I sense his deep grief, his sense of family, which lies beneath everything he is, and does in this life.
I am in the streets of my father’s soul.
 
Go Back