Every day we become consumed by the most mundane, tiring and insignificant pursuits.
Then your child watches snow fall for the first time. It’s not likely white flakes would descend upon the streets of Ballarat, although after recent years it might now be a case of when. It is likely, however, a mobile phone drops and won’t turn on.
The day started and ended with snow. Hail and thunder was predicted, but come the morning rain became white, thick, more visible and slower to hit the ground. But in my excited rush to run outside and stand under this rarity, my phone slipped from my hands and bounced across the footpath.
The screen went black. The power button, held down and firm, could not bring the phone to life. The snow at that point was but a few flecks and had passed. My need to go to the phone shop did not.
I have had the same phone for years. It had been paid off, and I’ve had the same adhesive clear screen on its cover from when the phone was bought. But the shop worker simply said if it is not turning on it would cost too much to fix, and I might as well buy a new one. A tad frustrated it was one of those “to do” concerns that dogs and leaves anxious. I drove around from mobile fix-it guy to fix-it guy, knowing it had started to become hopeless.
Snow smattered into tiny dots against my windscreen. And I realised my little mate, who was in childcare, had not seen snow before. So I drove. I broke him out, put on his jacket – and plaid hunting hat – and changed a lifetime of immediate and absolute fixation on what I had and did not.
Permanent peace I have not found. But standing there, holding my little mate in my arms, pivoting so he could witness those white flecks drop diagonal from the breeze slight and bitter, I did not care for anything more in the world. Oh yeah, and the phone found resurrection after time on its charger.
Chris O’Leary
