“Hey, Kate, can you pass up the watermelon?” my Dad called from the roof of the Toyota Landcruiser, where he was loading the big Esky (lunchbox). “Sure,” I replied, struggling to lift it above my head. Fresh from a friend’s garden, it was huge and round and very heavy. Vibrant green stripes hinted at the deliciousness inside. I couldn’t wait for lunch. It had been ages since we’d had watermelon.
My Dad strapped the Esky down to the roof rack, then tied a cargo net over the watermelon. With a large family, there was no room for the lunch inside the car. It was full of people. The watermelon would have to ride on the roof.
We all piled into the Troop Carrier, ten kids from a blended family. As the eldest, I was the doorkeeper. I made sure everyone got in safely, then shut the door behind us. Five of us sat on the bench seats on one side of the vehicle, and five sat on the other side. We lived an hour’s drive from the nearest town, half of which was over rough tracks and dirt roads. Living there was not for the faint hearted, and trips to town were no small undertaking. But today, we were off to share a picnic lunch with friends, other families who also lived out of town. And we had watermelon for lunch. It promised to be a great day, and I couldn’t wait.
Lunchtime came.
“Oh no!” my stepmother exclaimed. “Where’s the watermelon?” We all gathered around, gazing up at the empty cargo net. Somehow, the watermelon had escaped. There would be no watermelon for lunch that day. We were more than disappointed.
Late in the day, we made the long drive home. Somehow, the day just hadn’t turned out to be so shiny after all. We were all still thinking about the watermelon. And there it was. Not far from home. Underneath a huge gum tree whose big roots created a massive bump in the road. Splattered in thousands of pieces, its vibrant red flesh devastatingly spread over the dirt. The bush creatures had already found it, adding to the carnage. The smell of still fresh watermelon drifted through the open windows, tantalizing us with deliciousness that we would never taste. It was a sad day.
Fast forward to more recent times. Our neighbour just down the road grows wonderful watermelons. And sometimes, he shares them. It’s a happy day when he gives us a watermelon. We haven’t got room in our yard for watermelons, much as I would love to grow some ourselves.
One day, we came home late, after dark. Michael carefully nosed the car around the live Christmas Bush stump that inconveniently sits in the middle of the front yard. POP!
“What was that?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe I got too close to the stump.” He opened the door and got out.
“I ran over a watermelon,” he said sheepishly. “John must have paid us a visit while we were out.”
“Oh no,” I said, getting out to look. Sure enough, there was the vibrant red flesh of a shattered melon right next to the stump. The fresh watermelon smell wafted up, taunting me.
“It smells like it would have been a good one,” I said.
“Maybe the cows will enjoy it,” Michael said as he helped me gather up the pieces to throw over the fence.
A year passed by, and it was watermelon season again. With both kids now at school, I found some temporary work during school hours, painting a house. It was hot work, and didn’t pay much, but I was grateful for the opportunity to earn some money for school fees. One day we came home and found the phone not working. Nor was the internet. I rang our watermelon – growing neighbour.
“There was a technician here today,” he said. “We’ve had a fault in our phone line and he was here for hours trying to fix it.”
“Well, I reckon he’s fixed your phone by disconnecting ours,” I said, and went off to begin the week – long ordeal of trying to get our phone connected again.
Some days later, we again came home late. And there on the front lawn, safely out of destruction’s path, was not one watermelon, but three.
“Look! John must have given us some watermelons!” I exclaimed to Michael.
“We’ll bring them inside later,” he replied. Both of us had our hands full of the day’s necessities – lunch boxes and other bits and pieces. The melons would be fine on the lawn for a while.
Somehow, later didn’t come. The next morning, as I herded kids out the door on the way to school, I spotted the watermelons again.
Uh – oh, we didn’t bring those in last night. No time now. Hope they’ll be all right out here for the day. I rushed on with another busy day.
It was a really long one. After work I had to do the shopping. It took ages to find the things I needed, and I was really tired, and unenthusiastic about going home. A lot more work was waiting for me there. Michael called me before I got home.
“Guess what!” he exclaimed. “Guess how I’m calling you?”
“On the home phone?”
“Yes! It’s fixed!”
Well, that was good news. The technician must have come during the day while we were out. But when I got home, something struck me immediately. The watermelons. There were only two. I walked around the tree to see if somehow one had rolled to the other side. Definitely not. There were definitely only two. Someone had taken one. I looked closely at the remaining melons. One had a soft spot in it. I pressed on it, and discovered that it was rotten in a big section that was almost invisible. Well, we wouldn’t be eating that one. Which left one, at least. But I was uneasy, then outraged at the great watermelon heist. Who would dare thieve a melon from us? At least the watermelon thief only took one. You still have one good one. True, and I was grateful…but it rankled. I wouldn’t do it. There’s no way I would. But other people are not that scrupulous. So get over it. Ok, so it was only a watermelon, but it rattled my sense of security. If someone would steal a watermelon, what else would they steal? It was probably only an opportunistic theft by the phone technician. Perhaps he likes watermelon. Possibly, but I now have a little less faith in humanity. My home seems a little less secure. Are phone technicians trustworthy people? Or was it someone else altogether?
I guess I’ll never know the answers to all these things. But one thing has become apparent: watermelon woes seem to be a regular event!