Still Waving by Laurene Kelly

laughed.
    That sounded ridiculous. Once you were that old there wasn’t much to look forward to as far as I wasconcerned. You’d never be a world champion surfer, that’s for sure.
    â€˜I talked to Ruby.’
    â€˜How is she?’
    â€˜Pretty good. It’s bloody hot up there. People are going off their tree. Ruby said she’d go visit Toby.’
    â€˜He’d like that, I think.’
    â€˜At least he’d be able to have a swim. There’d be no water in the dams on the farm, that’s for sure.’
    â€˜Do you want to ring him some time?’
    â€˜Maybe tomorrow night, it’s too late now.’ I stared at the lightning out to sea.
    â€˜What a light show,’ Aunt Jean said. ‘Better than any pyrotechnic display.’
    â€˜The lightning is so silent.’
    Aunt Jean laughed.
    â€˜You know what I mean. It’s weird not hearing thunder.’
    Just as I said it, a loud rumble began and ended in a very loud thunderclap. Heavy rain drops splattered down.
    â€˜It’s going to pour,’ Aunt Jean said, gathering up the tea things.
    I grabbed the cushions off the seats. The rain belted down, lashing the balcony. We got inside before we were completely drenched. I shook raindrops out of my hair.
    We watched the storm through the kitchen window. The sea was violently agitated. I could see whitecaps crashing at each other in the roll of the waves. What a shipwreck night, I thought.
    â€˜Would you like a game of Scrabble?’ Aunt Jean asked.
    â€˜Okay. I’ll get it.’
    We set up on the coffee table in the lounge room. It felt good to be inside. The rain beat against the windows. Thunderclaps receded into the distance. The sea constantly roared.
    I tried to figure out how to get the best score with my pathetic letters. I had five vowels and my highest tile was worth two points. Aunt Jean put down the word ‘nuncio’ to begin. I choked. What sort of word was that? It sounded foreign.
    â€˜It’s in the dictionary,’ Aunt Jean said smugly.
    â€˜What does it mean?’
    â€˜Look it up, if you don’t believe me.’
    I knew it would be in the dictionary. ‘I believe you, but what does it mean?’
    â€˜A diplomat of the Pope.’ Aunt Jean laughed and looked triumphant.
    Who cared? It’s a stupid word. I struggled with my letters. Mum had taught us Scrabble when we were little. It was good for our vocabulary, she’d said. Sometimes I enjoyed it. Sometimes I hated it. None ofmy friends played and they’d looked at me strangely once when I’d suggested a game.
    Aunt Jean won as usual. She knew more stupid words than me.
    â€˜Aunt Jean?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Do you think kids who grow up in the city and never see the stars miss out?’
    â€˜Miss out on what?’
    â€˜Well, you know, mythology. Like, people might say Gemini or something, but they wouldn’t know where it was in the sky. Even the Southern Cross, Orion, Pleiades.’
    â€˜I suppose you’re right.’
    â€˜I’d hate it if I didn’t know the constellations and stuff. I can’t see them much here, but I know they’re there. I remember this song Mum used to sing.’ I looked at Aunt Jean and started singing softly,
    â€˜Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
    Never let it fade away,
    Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket,
    Save it for a rainy day.’
    Aunt Jean joined in. ‘Our mother used to sing that song to your mother and I when we were children.’
    â€˜Mum sang it to us all the time.’ I felt a slight tinge of sadness, but swallowed it.
    â€˜I’m amazed I remembered it as well as I did. Itmust be years since I’ve thought about that song,’ Aunt Jean said, staring into the distance, as if some far-away memory had just awoken.
    I looked out the window. The storm was even wilder.
    â€˜I said I’d ring Kate.’ I looked at the