Day 21- A lifetime has passed since the wind at the Wilo’s. Our focus has narrowed down to each moment as the minutes drag through sticky honey. The warm, sweet familiar feeling of home has been swept away as the black dusty silence piles up on our belongings inside. Only to be disturbed by the whipping of a tarp echoing through wide gaping spaces and cracks in the roof.

From some angles the house looks the same as if nothing has happened. Then your gaze wanders through the windows and you are reminded. Those piles of belongings stack high and scatter the floor below. As if someone was disturbed while robbing the place, dumping our stuff and running. The cracks in the walls, the peeling plaster. Props to hold up the collapsing wall that almost buckled under the weight of that 6 tonne gum. The doorways to the rooms frame the devastation. Caved in rooves that touch the floor, hanging wires fill the space and dust replaces the carpet. The cold chill of the waiting has set in. The collection of memories still linger. Waiting. Wanting to know which ones get to come with us and which ones will be buried in our minds.

The screeching sounds of cockies brings us back to our feet standing outside. When will we be able to set foot back into our home to start again?