{"id":1169,"date":"2021-01-22T16:10:41","date_gmt":"2021-01-22T05:10:41","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/?p=1169"},"modified":"2021-01-12T16:33:33","modified_gmt":"2021-01-12T05:33:33","slug":"tiny-love-stories","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/tiny-love-stories","title":{"rendered":"Tiny love stories"},"content":{"rendered":"

As told to Ruhi Lee<\/em><\/p>\n

Longtime lovebirds<\/h2>\n

Thirty years ago, Ronnie was speaking at an event in Newcastle when Aunty Kerrie first saw him. \u201cI want that one,\u201d she thought. He was a T\u016bhoe leader and \u201ca speaker that others would be jealous of … magnificent and beautiful in his language\u201d.<\/p>\n

Then they met.<\/p>\n

\u201cKia ora, I\u2019m Ronnie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKia ora, I\u2019m your next wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

Today, Aunty Kerrie calls out from the kitchen, \u201cAre you happy I snagged you all those years ago at the marae?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow can you say no to that?!\u201d he exclaims, his face smeared with tempura prawns and the Thousand Islands dressing she\u2019d prepared for him.<\/p>\n

Ronnie was diagnosed with aphasic dementia earlier this year. \u201cHe\u2019s not really verbal anymore. It\u2019s not only a tragedy for me and him but for his whole culture,\u201d says Aunty Kerrie. Thinking of her husband, her sorrow quickly bubbles into giggles. \u201cHe still laughs at my jokes, so what else do you need really? He still eats my cooking. Poor bugger. That\u2019s the one thing about dementia \u2014 he doesn\u2019t complain about my cooking so much!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you stay so positive, Aunty Kerrie?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I reckon our marriage will last forever. Even when we\u2019re dead, we\u2019ll still be married,\u201d she shares with a laugh.<\/p>\n

Little twitcher<\/h2>\n

Is it possible to fall in love with birds? To experience a connection beyond mere interest or admiration? For a two-year-old, it\u2019s possible. She\u2019s able to distinguish between pigeons, mynas, crows and cockatoos. And when an obese magpie perches itself atop a fence, perhaps too tired to fly for the next half hour, this little girl talks to her, sings to her and even names her Daisy. Eventually, the bird flies away. Two days later, \u201cMummy! Daisy is back!\u201d she squeals. Sure enough, the fat little bird has returned for more of the toddler\u2019s love.<\/p>\n

A care package<\/h2>\n

Salted peanuts are the preferred post-work snack. Coffee. Turkish bread. Garlic butter. He\u2019s never had it before, but he\u2019ll love it. Spirulina for his smoothies to build immunity. Wait, scratch that. He bought two kilos from the supermarket just before lockdown. Chocolates for his top-shelf-in-the-cupboard stash that nobody else can reach without a chair. Corn cobs, which he\u2019ll roast over an open fire and rub with lemon and pepper. Oh, and lemons, since his lemon tree is dead. He still waters it, convinced it\u2019s coming back to life. She can afford to leave optimism out of his Father\u2019s Day delivery, she thinks. He has plenty of it.<\/p>\n

Technology buff<\/h2>\n

Always in possession of the latest gadgets, not one iteration of the iPad was released without his knowledge. His televisions enlarged with every house move, 85 inches being the last. His youngest grandson\u2019s smartphone had been malfunctioning and, when the 31-year-old was offered his Pa\u2019s phone as a replacement, he sorrowfully accepted. Pa\u2019s ability to use his phone was one of the last things to go. Who was he without his stylus?<\/p>\n

A month later, the young man eulogised at his Pa\u2019s funeral. Pa, they hoped, would watch on through an infinitely larger screen than those he\u2019d owned earth-side. That gave them all comfort in his passing.<\/p>\n

Till death do us part<\/h2>\n

Often reserved for married couples, \u201ctill death do us part\u201d was our promise when we were 15. Now, double the age, I asked him, \u201cDo you think we\u2019re drifting apart?\u201d We\u2019d fallen out once before and it took us a year to heal. Though adulthood granted us the maturity to resolve conflict quicker this time around, playground jealousy still trumped maturity. \u201cWhenever I think of your new friend, I find myself chanting my new mantra, \u2018Fuck Kamryn.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI pursued other friendships because you don\u2019t seem to have time anymore,\u201d he explains.<\/p>\n

A flurry of \u201csorry\u201d, \u201cI miss you\u201d and \u201cyou\u2019ll always be my best friend\u201d were exchanged.<\/p>\n

Till death do us part.<\/p>\n

List makers in the dark<\/h2>\n

Like fluorescent lights switching off down a long corridor, batch by batch, Melbourne was shutting down. But under the muting shroud that enveloped the city, candles were being lit.<\/p>\n

One burned between two drummers kissing on a porch. In the blink of an eye, the flicker of a flame, they met, meshed and moved in together. Stage four restrictions left no time to date or plan.<\/p>\n

Gigs and travel cancelled, the women wrote a list: Jazzlab. Tempo Rubato. Mataranka. Mexico. Homes of family and friends. Drumming studio.<\/p>\n

More candles lit. More flames burning.<\/p>\n

Blowing them out will signify the joy of milestones reached.<\/p>\n

Many thanks to Aunty Kerry Doyle, Luc Yong, S. G., E. L. and S. A. for their stories.<\/em><\/p>\n

Ruhi is grateful to the traditional owners of Boon Wurrung land where she writes every day. Her book, <\/em>Good Indian Daughter, is coming out in 2021 with Affirm Press. You can follow her on Instagram @lee_ruhi<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Love can be messy and chaotic, yet magical and charming. Here, six perfectly flawed humans try their best to navigate the tumultuous pursuit of love and happiness.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14,"featured_media":1170,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[98],"tags":[292,122,126],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1169"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/14"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1169"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1169\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1171,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1169\/revisions\/1171"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1170"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1169"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1169"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.wellbeing.com.au\/curious\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1169"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}