Waltzing Matilda

Feet barely lifting off the dry dirt ground, nonexistent to the flying creatures
around his face, he walked only looking forwards. For if he looked back he would
see a lost man, losing his last companion. Images of the loyal blue heeler flashed in
his mind and he fought to hold back the tears. For years he and she had travelled,
calling the land they walked on home. Now that sense of belonging was gone, now
he was truly alone. All he had was his swag, a billy and the clothes on his back.
But material goods did not satisfy him. What he needed was a friend, someone to
accompany him as he goes in search of work. Someone to share his journey with,
he needed her.

It had been days since he last ate. His stomach ached with pain. She always took
away that pain, he thought, she always made it better. Now he camped alongside
the dusty road, sun beginning to fall. He had his billy on the boil as he watched the
still landscape. He noticed a large lizard soaking in the last of today’s sun. Slowly
he approached it with his knife.

He was joyful starting the next day on a full stomach, more than he had been in a
long time. He hummed to himself, adding a skip to step as he continued down the
road. He dreamed last night, of swimming in the ocean. It had been so long since
he had seen the sea; he missed the calming sight of the waves. He remembered a
time when she was there with him, chasing seagulls and barking at the tide. And
with that memory he reliesed, he had never named her. There was no need; it was
only the two of them. He misses her so much, and he regrets not ever naming her.
Matilda, he thought, I would have named her Matilda. As pain filled his eyes, he
held tight to the only other thing that has stayed with him for so long, his swag. He
had not known many women in his life, but he remembers the comfort his mother
gave him as a child. Her name was Matilda. He remembered her, and the support
she gave him every day. He thought about his swag, how it went with him
everywhere, never leaving, always by his side. I should call it Matilda too, he
thought, my three loves.

So happy from relising he was not alone, he danced. He held his new Matilda in
front of him, skipping in circles. Singing so loudly his lungs could burst. “Waltzing
Matilda! Waltzing Matilda! Who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me?”
Still singing, he laid down his swag beneath a collibah tree resting by a billabong.
He put his billy on the boil and waited.