Shed of glass, paddock of ash

The farm settlement was on Wednesday, and as I don't work Fridays, I take this first opportunity to check up on "da ranch". Our ranch. Rolling green paddocks sooth my eyes as I drive through the front gate. I am so happy. I park in front of the house, feed Sabina (my 1 and a half year old daughter), and together we go exploring. It doesn't take long for reality to start hitting.

My mood plunges quickly, as I take in the details. The previous owners had left in a hurry. He got a job across the sea, his wife followed him. They took the essentials, and left the cleaning up to the kids. To their 21 year old son. I remember how well I cleaned up when I was that age. My clothes moved from the floor to the bed during the day, and from the bed to the floor at night. That was "cleaning up".

Here, likewise, except that we're talking 37 acres, and not a bedroom. I get to the shed, and my stomach starts churning. The shed floor is full of broken glass. The shed is a huge 3 bay machinery, lock-up shed. There is a lot of floorspace ... buried under broken glass. The glass cuts my heart, my heart starts to bleed. I look away.

I look away straight at the paddock. I want to cry, but I can't. I cuddle my daughter closer to me, as if what I see, could hurt her. In the middle of the paddock is a huge ash pile. A burnt hole. The remnants of the "farm cooling" party. My eyes open wide. I cannot believe the size of the fire that must have burnt here on Tuesday night. I turn around and head back to the house. No changes here. Same cracked window, same weeds.

As we depart, I shake off the sombre feeling, and focus on the green rolling hills. I tell myself to be strong. We can do this. I know we can.