The next day at work found Dave Frankston feeling elated. Everything was going as planned and now Conno had phoned him yesterday evening with the news that he was coming to the reunion, he could start making arrangements. First on his list was contacting Debbie’s biological mother. Suddenly, elation made way for a surge of anxiety. How would her mother react? ‘Well, mate, there’s no turning back now,’ he said to himself as he poured himself a cup of nice strong tea and walked over to his desk.
Part 5 in the Helena Series
“Ohhh,” Helena and Marlon sighed as the most radiant sun they had ever seen, appeared before them.
They gazed at the sun to see it transform into a smiling woman’s face so full of love that it brought tears to their eyes. A warm and gentle voice spoke.
“Dear children, I am called Tamar. Please, come closer.”
The two friends did as they were asked.
“My name is Helena,” Helena said without the slightest hesitation.
“And I am called Marlon,” Marlon added with equal enthusiasm.
“Yes, I know, my little wise ones. I have been watching you from above since the day you were born.”
“Were you expecting us, Tamar?” Helena asked.
“Yes, I was indeed. Just as humankind has been expecting me for thousands of years.”
“So, you are the long-expected Sun,” Helena said to her own surprise, as the words did not feel as if they were her own.
“Yes, I am,” Tamar replied, “and to the ancients I am also known as Sirius.”
Part 4 in the Helena Series
After enjoying the view at the bayou, Helena and Marlon walked back to the gardens of the grand old house. There they stood beside Grandma’s oak again. Out of reverence for the wise old tree, they hesitated to lay their hands on its sturdy, grooved bark. Instead, they stood there for a while holding hands. In doing so, they soon noticed how powerful the oak was even at a distance. It filled them with a sense of calm.
Part 3 in the Helena Series
“Wasn’t that wonderful?” Helena asked, referring to the flash of light across the sky they had just witnessed.
“Yes,” Marlon answered with a nod, “and I reckon the light in the bayou will be so too. Shall we carry on walking?”
The two eleven-year-olds turned to the dirt track and headed towards the bayou.
Moving from Australia to London in 1979 wasn’t as great as I’d expected it to be. In fact, it turned out to be an enormous culture shock. The roads weren’t paved with gold at all; society wasn’t as sophisticated as people made it out to be, the weather didn’t agree with me one bit, and above all, the people weren’t as friendly as the people in Australia. England seemed so backward to me, that for all I knew, I could just as well have landed on the moon.