Salt

We sat high on the sand bank, looking out over the choppy sea.

Mum, dad, my baby sister and I.

Dad brought the Eski packed with VB and frozen drink bottles of orange cordial.

Mum had wrapped Vegemite rolls and sliced fruit.

Hot breeze blew hair in my face.

Sand dried on my skin;

salty, cracking, clean.

I wasn’t old enough to swim alone

we would go together after lunch.

 

Dad had borrowed a camera from his work for the holidays,

one of the last we would take as a family.

As we played and posed for photos, the weather turned quickly,

the tide shadowed us;

click, crash, whip.

I heard dad yell “save the camera!”

As I went under and swallowed salt, feeling

small and forgotten.