A three hour drive brings me to my Mum and Dad’s house in Jamieson. Through windy roads, with views of dense trees and mountains, to be greeted by Mum in the garden and Dad on the veranda. To fresher air and lesser worries; What’s for lunch? To fish or four wheel drive? The wine; red or white?

We walk past the house that Mum and Dad used to own when they were in their twenties. Two kids from the city, who made a home by the river. I listen to their stories; working at the local pub, their goats Collingwood and Ice-cream, and laugh at the small town rumour mill.

We take the boat out. Mum can barely swim, but Dad and I like to fly in top speed. An argument as Mum is too hopeless to work the clips on the life jacket, and Dad takes the bends way too hard. No fish caught. A Johnny Cash song, “How high’s the water Mumma?”, gets stuck in my head as we check the depth sounder and navigate our way through treetops.

Four wheel driving up to the top of Mt Terrible. My legs bruise as Dad eagerly changes each gear with the gear stick I’m pressed hard up against, as I ride in the middle of the front seat. A bumpy ride back, with a full bladder. “Are you sure you can’t see me?”, as I squat behind a tree.

Mum and I fall in love with Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites. We always end the day with a movie and this day Dad let me choose. Mum makes sure I’m cool enough as I get into bed. “Turn this dial to the left if you want the fan to go up, or to the right if you want it to turn off”. Thanks mum, I got this.

A phone call comes through that friends of mine have lost their mother/mother-in-law that day to cancer. My heart hurts for them, and I cry a little as I lay to bed that night. I’m so grateful I can hear my parents snoring in the next room.

Are you ever really too old to ride a pink flamingo and wave to your parents as they sit and watch from the river bank?

I hope not.