I was on the outskirts of Horsham, driving too fast even for that hour of the morning when I saw it. There, in the middle of the flat, could-see-for-miles and seldom-used country road, stood a portable traffic light with the amber light flashing warningly. “Slow down, take care, look out,” but I paid no heed because I was in a hurry.
I was going to my mother’s house, in response to an urgent call I had received in the early hours of the morning. Now the sun had risen and I expected to be at Grass Flat within the next half hour. I was anxious and heading into an unknown situation.
My mother lived on her property in the Wimmera, using hired hands and friends to get the work done. I had invited her to live with me several times but she knew better than I and said it wouldn’t last. She said my anxiety led to impulsiveness and a need to control. I said she was too independent for her own good. We never agreed on a solution and she resolutely remained on her farm. “I’m a tough old bird,” she said often, sometimes sarcastically.
However, she hadn’t sounded tough on the phone this morning, her voice had quavered and she sounded frightened. I didn’t ask what happened. She had said she needed me and that was enough for my imagination to picture fires, floods and devastating disasters. After I hung up, I had thrown a few things in the car and driven down.
I zipped past the warning light onto the wrong side of the road and saw a police car in my rear view mirror, coming up fast with sirens and lights going. The flashing lights in my rear-view mirror tightened my chest and caused my heart to pound. I let slip a few choice words as I pulled over to the side of the road I waited while he sat in his car and then I wound down the window, letting the heated air escape from the car with a sigh as he approached. My stomach was now roiling with anxiety and a lump formed somewhere in my windpipe constricting my breathing. The red and blue flashes lit up my car in their hypnotic pattern, mesmerising me and I felt groggy like a cockroach in an ether jar preparing to be pinned to a display board.
“Any reason why you were going so fast ma’am?” asked the policeman politely while I became mute with anxiety, my eyes fixed on his massive tree trunk arms that invaded the space inside my car. The interrogation continued, with him sounding surprisingly like my mother. My silence stretched.
Couldn’t he see I was in a hurry? Finally I shook my head mutely and shrugged. He gave me a lecture then. Angrily, I sat with hands clenched, while he strolled to the patrol car and back to me with a ticket. I snatched the paper, inwardly fuming at the cost I could ill afford. He doffed his cap, strolled back to his car and took off.
I sat, staring at the ticket but unable to see. Tears sprang into my eyes. I turned the radio up loud, indicated and pulled out without looking and then I checked my mirror to see an eighteen-wheeler bearing down on me with no other place to go.
I heard the screech of brakes and the hissing of air expired as the driver valiantly tried to stop and the honk of the horn blasting a warning. Cold coffee slopped from the cup into the cup into the console as I kangaroo hopped to a stop. I closed my eyes waiting for death and heard silence. Then I opened my eyes and saw there was no eighteen-wheeler, no accident waiting to happen, not even a ticket in my car. The amber light flashed intermittently and I was safely stopped in front of it. The horn blared again and I realised I must have dozed while I waited. The line of cars behind me honked in two-tone cacophony as I edged forward around the flashing light. Once I was safely on the road again I thought about the situation, the amber light and warning horns had woken me up in more ways than one. My need to be needed by my mother had made me react like one of Pavlov’s dogs responding without thinking or waiting to be to be told what was really going on. Perhaps I needed to change old patterns of behaviour and interaction. I pulled into the Shell garage and stopped for coffee. The aroma woke me completely and I used the time to ring my mother. She answered the phone sleepily. “Hello mum! Are you all right? You sounded so frightened before. Do you want me to come and visit?”
“Sorry darling, I didn’t mean to scare you. I had a nightmare about you getting hit and killed by a truck and after the news of those young local lads who were killed three days ago...well you know. I only rang to chat but when I realised what time it was I felt silly. There’s no need for you to come. I’m perfectly fine now. I rang Doug who was also awake and we had hot chocolate and chatted till about six. Then I went back to bed. Sorry if I worried you. I meant to call back but didn’t want to wake you again.” She laughed nervously.
“It’s okay mum I wasn’t worried…well I was but I know you will ring if you really need help.” Then I said the words I had wanted to say for years, stuttering slightly because of their unfamiliarity “I love you Mum.”
There was silence for a moment and I heard her sigh. “I love you too possum. I always have.”
Then I gently hung up the phone and with tears of happiness cleaning my vision I turned around and went home, knowing it was true my mother did love me but she didn’t need me. And now I could be the adult she wanted me to be and not need her quite so much either.
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