“Losing touch with reality can be dangerous.”
Its spring 2015. I’m standing outside, on my porch, taking in the soft scent of the roses. The air is crisp and the sun shining. A breeze gently blows by, sending a shiver through my spine. I’m watching my children playing in the backyard, all four of them, Sudam, Jehovah, Amjad and Doug. They’ve made up some time of game, a pirate game I’m guessing judging by their voices. Sudam is the captain of the ship, Jehovah and Amjad are his shipmates and Doug is being made to walk the plank. It reminds me of when I was growing up and the games I played with my two brothers. The best time of my life. Memories flood back into my mind of my childhood. We lived in Naracoorte South Australia where we could do anything. Each weekend we would go outside for the day and play endless games. Riding down big hills in a billy cart with no brakes, exploring the world on a bike, walking through caves and playing chasey on our big farm.
Feeling cold I walk inside and lie on the couch. I lay there pondering on my childhood. Suddenly the world around me changes completely. No longer am I on the Mornington Peninsula, I’m standing on the plains of Naracoorte. The ground is a burnt red and the sky is a vivid blue. I can recognise the outline of my old house. Further in the distance I can make out the silhouette of 3 young boys. Habib, Brian and Sanchez. It’s me and my brothers playing chasey on our big paddock. By the looks of it I’m ‘it’ and my brothers are running circles around me. I can hear their taunts, “Habib is it, chuck him in the bin”. “Can we play something different please? I’ve been ‘it’ for the last 15 minutes and I haven’t come close to catching either of you. My legs are aching so badly” pleads Habib. “Is little Habib tired. You poor little boy. Do you want us to give you a cuddle?” tease, my brothers. “STOP! Can we just play something else” Habib exclaims. “We’ll stop for now, but Brian and I are going to head down to the...