Inevitable.

Inevitable. This is the word I’ve been reflecting on this week as time slows, then jerks closer, forward. All in time they say, or all in a day’s work. But surely, one day, it will come.

Back at Amerton, the back paddock river ran dry. Slowly, we moved the sheep to a dam built in times of these, foresight I’m not sure I’ve learnt. While the wisdom whispers to the landscape, I know I must listen.

As Nan tells tales of the past and walks the landscape seemingly with ease, I ponder once more of my role here. How I can help, how I can play my part and how I can keep the dream alive. Will I need to drive between Boorowa and Gloucester in the future to keep things going? What’s inevitable here, in this space?

It was then to Wagga, as my sister graduated to continue the education stream. As her passion grows in the footsteps of my Mum, I can’t help but feel pride and emotion for what she’s doing. Following her dreams, and securing a job on Worimi Country, she has committed to playing her role in society. In the journey of our ancestors, it’s obvious to me that this is all natural. All inevitable.

It was then back on the road, making my way back to Boorowa, then Sydney. Tracing country, following stars, the pace slowed to sing surrounding country. My mind on the work ahead, heart stretched between the farm, Gloucester and Amerton. I just want to play my role, keep culture and history alive.

As the watch ticks, sometimes I ponder the scale of this, whether what I keep learning is stretching the ask. How do I ensure all lives on? How do I ensure that I respectfully allow each part to live on?

At home, Christmas has certainly come with new baubles accompanying the tree and outside lights. Chickens grow into their home and test newfound wings, as the garden promises more growth despite the heat.

The new year promises new opportunities, new ideas and a new push. Coming. Patiently. Inevitably.

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