Weird Sisters

Weird sisters, hand in hand,
Posters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about.

A strange noise woke me, a sound like the guttural barking of a seal. As I emerged from misty dreams of crashing waves on a sea shore it took me a few disoriented moments to remember I was in Central Queensland, far from any beach. The ‘seal’ I had heard was a bush turkey, and its barking was now accompanied by the high pitched whistles of a couple of rainbow lorikeets. The morning chorus had begun.

My younger sister moved to Queensland ten years ago, and has built herself a new life with a new partner, a landscape gardening business, and now a new house. She has returned to Perth every couple of years for a short visit, but this year she decided to host Christmas for the family at her house. For my two older sisters and their partners it was just another stop in their itinerary, having reached the place in their lives where they regularly go “about, about”. For me though this trip to Queensland was an adventure requiring months of planning and preparation, and the girding of loins to gather the requisite courage.

I’ve done an excellent job over the last decade creating a comfortable life for myself here in Perth. I have my mobility sorted with wheelchairs and a hand controlled car and taxi vouchers. I have a house festooned tastefully with door ramps and grab rails artistically placed in a look I call ‘disability chic’. I have my weekly routines between my home and a few safe, known places where the toilets are accessible, and a few occasional more adventurous forays to a movie, theatre or shopping centre to add a little spice to my otherwise settled existence. It was challenging to contemplate a trip interstate involving plane flights, airport stopovers and unknown accommodation where I might be forced to call on the assistance of others. Nevertheless, I really didn’t want to miss out so I decided to go. Once the decision was made I rallied the troops and made plans.

The MS Society of Queensland helped me source some essential bits of equipment which would make my sister’s house work for me. I spent an hour on the phone with someone at the airline ensuring that I and my wheelchair would make the journey comfortably, including being able to access the tiny little toilet on the plane. I bought some suitably tropical clothes for what I imagined would be hot and humid weather. I even used the weekly craft group at MSWA’s Wilson outreach centre to make myself a new dress for Christmas, with the help of the hand control sewing machine they have there and a staff person to pick up the pins I dropped.

All my preparations paid off, and we had a splendid Christmas, complete with large quantities of food and bonding over mango daiquiris. The weather was pleasant, a constant wind keeping the humidity at bay. I met Harry and Buffy, the rainbow lorikeets, who deigned to perch on my hand while I fed them their morning sunflower seeds. I was taken for a bumpy ride around the property on a golf buggy to admire the work my sister and her partner have done in establishing their business.

But Christmas would not be complete in our family if my sisters and I did not participate in some dramatic performance of an amateur and farcical nature. So it was that one evening we ended up robed in black veils, dancing around a cauldron enacting the witches’ scene from Shakespeare’s play Macbeth, chanting that famous recipe: 

Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog....

The audience of menfolk and offspring unanimously declared the performance a roaring success. As my brother-in-law pronounced, “You truly are weird sisters.”