Photo: Freedigitalphotos.net

Dear Readers, If you are wanting to catch up on the previous parts to this story here are the links:

https://summerstommy.com/2013/12/21/story-4-christmas-part-1/

https://summerstommy.com/2013/12/22/story-4-christmas-part-2/

I must have walked for hours, the rain never seemed to let up, my arm was aching like I’d never felt pain before and all the while I kept thinking there will be no help as no one knows where I am, save telling Maria that I was taking Taylor’s Mountain Road.

As the night was getting worse and my condition also was suffering I decide to rest for a while as I figured it was going to be easier to make it home if I rested and conserved my energy. Thankfully I found a spot out of the rain and lay down. I shut my eyes and when I opened them I could see the dawn beginning. I awoke stiff and sore from sleeping up against the rock face.

My left arm was by now paining me a great deal but I thought if I worried about that I would never get back.

I still had a fair way to go to reach Alcock’s Bridge. With no food, my phone had disappeared with the car, no way to call for help, my only recourse was to keep walking in the hope that help might come my way or I made it to the bridge.

I set off and as the day progressed I could feel myself getting weaker. I think there was a degree of shock that my body had absorbed in the accident and so it was coming to the fore now as I felt more and more nauseous the further I went.

There were more frequent stops, more times sleep overcame me, more times I craved an end to this and wanted so much to be in Maria’s arms. That was my single motivation to continue on. I wanted to get home; I wanted to be with Maria, I wanted to be home for Christmas.

My steps became shorter, and at times I knew I was getting delirious I was so hungry, thankfully there was plenty of water about to drink as I’m sure I would never have made it otherwise

At the end of the second day I was still not to Alcock’s Bridge, but I knew I was close to it, I could hear the roar of water from the river. I decide to make one last effort for the day to reach the bridge.

As the sun was just about the disappear and the darkness descend I saw the bridge, it was still above the water level but the river was very high, not far below the decking and making a deafening raw as it surged its way downstream.

I remember sitting on the bridge knowing I was within striking distance of home. From the bridge to home was only thirty minutes in the car, on foot it would be at the most a couple of hours.

Right now I needed sleep, how my body craved it, and so I sat there, my head against the side of the bridge, my arm now a dull ache, useless in many ways, as I still had to carry its weight around with me.

When I awoke the pain in my arm was worse than ever before. I sensed it might be getting septic and so the urgency to strive for home grew greater.

I knew the road was about fifteen Kilometers to home but in a straight line it would be shorter. When you are beginning to think you wont make it you clutch at whatever straws you can to achieve your goal.

It would mean transversing the fields, the scrub was thick, and there were even a few little creeks that would be running a banker by now. Was it worth it I asked myself?

Another part of me said no, don’t be an idiot there is a better chance of you getting home by staying on the road. And you may be picked up that may, though I knew very few people ever traveled on this road.

So I decided to trudge it out. Those last k’s were so difficult. My burning desire to get home to Maria for Christmas is what drove me.

As I approached the last couple of kilometers I became so tired, so weary I just wanted to curl up on the side of the road and let sleep overtake me but I feared not waking as I knew I was so hungry and so fatigued.

Then I had this sense of a presence with me. A voice kept saying, ‘Keep going, keep going, you are nearly home, keep going, it’s just a little further’.

Those last few painful k’s and all the while in my mind, which was a haze of thought at the time, was this voice urging me on, keeping me upright and headed for home. It was like there was someone with me, someone who knew it was important for me to keep going and put aside my own pain and discomfort.

Somehow I stayed upright, I staggered on until I stood on the top of the rise above the house.

I couldn’t believe I had made it.

I remember what seemed an eternity to get down the drive and to the house..

In the yard I saw the police car. Our local policemen was a wonderful man named Brian, during his time in the area he and I had become good friends and I remember seeing him, see me from the veranda and him running full pelt towards me, and then I collapsed into his arms.

He held me like no man has ever held me, I looked at him and there were tears running down his face, I suddenly knew, I knew inside, that he wasn’t crying for me.

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Maria had been frantic about me not getting home. She had gone out in her vehicle determined to find me, but she made one mistake. She tried to cross the causeway, and she got caught in the current, it picked the car up and carried it away.

Her mum had called our place and received no answer and then had called Brian. While I was struggling to get home he was looking for her and found her. She had gone.

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Christmas has been sad for you dad.

For some years they were unbearable. But your Nanna would say to me, that little girl deserves a Christmas like every other child.

Every Christmas has been great with you dad. This house is surrounded with mum’s image, you have always told me about her.

Thank you Charl.

Why wasn’t I with Mum?

Maria had asked Nanna to care for you so she and I could have a night together.

It was Mum who helped you home wasn’t it?

I am certain of it.

I’m so pleased you tell me this story each Christmas Dad; it’s part of my Christmas.

I look forward to it now. I’d be disappointed if you stopped asking.

At this stage of the story it had become Charl’s practice to snuggle further into me. She gripped my arm, her head firmly against my shoulder.

You miss her dad don’t you?

Everyday.