'It's time to get up, Gregory. You don't want to be late for your first day, do you?'
I was already awake, and just dwelling on the coming days events. I had been too excited to sleep much, and couldn't wait for my new life to start. It felt very early, it was still dark outside, but I felt sure that mum could read a clock correctly. It was time.
'Right, mum, I'm awake!'
'Come on then, breakfast is ready.'
I got out of bed, and looked out of the window. My city was lit up by thousands of house lights. The city was awake, and getting ready for a new week. My week. The first day of my new life had arrived. I put of my dressing gown, and headed out to the kitchen, where mum had laid out the biggest breakfast assortment I had ever seen. I looked at her, and laughed.
'How many people are coming for breakfast, mum?'
She must have been in the kitchen preparing everything for hours. I wasn't even very hungry, but I knew that, at this point, I would have to make an effort.
'I wanted to make a good breakfast for you, on your first day. I'm so very proud of you.'
I could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Nothing new there, in fact it was really the norm now. Our new normal.
'Come on, mum, don't cry. You sit down, too, and we'll eat it together.'
She sat down, but she didn't eat anything. I hadn't really seen her eat anything much since dad had died, about four months before. Our house was a house of sadness. Where once happy people had lived, now there were only sorrowful ghosts. Mum used to be such a strong woman. She had been the rock of the house. The very foundations of the home had been built on her once strong, capable shoulders. Now those foundations were shaky, and felt like they could give way at any time. She used to walk around the house with such surety, now she would hesitate, as if she was unsure of her footing. The sturdy floorboards under her feet had given way to unpredictable surfaces, which were difficult to walk on. I hated to see her like this.
'I wish you could have continued with your studies. It's what your father wanted, too.'
'Mum, I'm seventeen now, it's time for me to contribute to the household. Anyway, I was sick of studying, I'm happy to get out into the world. I really am.'
That was very true. I had had no desire to continue studying. I never had. It was more my parents, especially dad, who wanted that. I was eager to get out into the world, and make my way. I had long wanted to discover life, be a part of it. Now, I really had to. Mum didn't earn enough to pay for everything, and with dad gone, there was really no question about it. We needed more money coming in. I tried to make a dent in the breakfast buffet.
'To see you like this makes me very proud. Your father would be proud of you, too.'
As usual, her tears were never far away. Mum looked to me like a person who had set out on her way confidently, but who had been caught up in a dreadful fog, and had lost her bearings. She had trouble navigating even the easiest of things. Even the things which had been her responsibility before dad died, were now difficult for her. Her cloak of confidence had been ripped away, exposing deep rifts of uncertainty in her. It was frightening for me to see her like that. A son should never see his mother in that light. She had always been so strong, so dauntless. Her beautiful face, always previously made up just right, was now a mask of sorrow, with deep lines. She had always looked after her brown, shoulder length hair, but things like that just didn't have any importance to her anymore. Now she would barely brush her hair. Her once lovely brown eyes now looked like the eyes of a subdued dog, which had been beaten into submission. It was like she didn't feel that her life had meaning, without dad at her side. She had only existed as part of a couple. Alone she was nothing. She constantly spoke of him, with me, reminding me of what he had thought of things. I always felt a little uncomfortable talking about dad with her, because really, I felt like I hadn't known him that well. He had just been dad. He had always worked long hours, providing well for his family, but the two of us hadn't ever spent much time together. Most of the time he had been at work, and, when he was at home, I would probably have been in my room, listening to music, or surfing the net. I vowed to myself that I would never tell mum that. I would share her pain, and shoulder my part of the burden. No matter how fraudulent it sometimes made me feel.
'It was very nice of Roger to find this job for you. He was always such a good friend of your father. Do you remember the name of the man you have to ask for?'
'Yes, mum. I've got it all. Don't worry. I like the thought of doing landscape gardening. Working outside will be good for me. Ok, mum, I'm off to get washed up. It's just about time for the two of us to head off to work.'
It felt so good to say that. I was about to enter the workforce. I was going to get out there, into the world. A whole new part of life was about to open up before me. School was over, work waited for me. I felt a great sense of excitement, tinged with a lot of nervousness.
Mum dropped me off outside the address they had given us, just off the Great North Road. It was in a fairly well to do suburb, with lovely, large houses. I would have to get the bus home, but it was just a short distance, so that would be no problem. Looking over the fence, I could see a flurry of activity going on, even at this early hour. I had the name of the foreman in my pocket, but on entering the gate, there was no doubt as to who that would be. There he was, standing there, in all his glory, yelling orders to all and sundry, throwing his arms around in all directions. He was a monster of a man, with a shock of red hair, wild and unkempt. There could be no doubt that he was the man I was looking for, the foreman, Ron Campbell. I walked up to him, with a bit of apprehension.
'Excuse me, sir, my name is Gregory Finch. I was told to report to you.'
He sized me up in a flash.
'Right you are, lad. Pick up that shovel, and start bringing in some sand for the boys laying the cobblestones.'
He certainly wasn't the sort of person who wasted time in small talk. With his loud, booming voice, and strong Scottish accent, he sounded like a colonel barking orders to his troops, before sending them into battle. I picked up the shovel, threw it over my shoulder like a rifle, and headed over to the pile of sand. I had no sooner started to fill up a wheelbarrow with the sand, when he yelled at me.
'Come on, McGregor, get that sand flying! The boys are relying on you. Don't let them down!'
I looked over at him, and laughed. He looked at me, and laughed as well. In that moment, still feeling a bit nervous about starting my new job, and my new life, I knew that things were going to be alright. I was out in the world, where I wanted to be, and it was all going to work out. From that point on, my name for everyone on the site was McGregor. I loved it. It made me feel like a scottish infantryman, under the command of my rambunctious colonel. It made me feel like I was part of the squad. All that first week, Colonel Campbell led his troops bravely, against all they could throw at us. We, his loyal infantrymen, would follow him anywhere. We would not let our courageous leader down. I learned a lot about my new job, and how to do battle bravely. I would throw myself into every attack, as if the lives of my fellow infantrymen depended on me. I followed all the instructions to the letter, determined to do my best. By the end of the week I was physically tired, but intensely pleased. I knew that there was a place for me out in the world. I would be able to make my way. I could survive out there. I knew that I would be able to contribute to help mum run the house, and have some money left over for me. It felt good. My life, my real life, had just started. On Friday afternoon, the colonel came up to me, and thumped me on the shoulder, with one of his gigantic hands.
'Well done, McGregor. You're a good lad. You're going to fit in well with the other boys. Now, be off home with you, get some rest, because next week we will be doing it all again.'
The colonel wasn't one to give credit lightly, so I knew he really meant it. It gave me a feeling of great satisfaction. I had played my part well. I had gone into battle, and I had given it my all. As I walked out of the gate, I looked bac
k, and admired the results of our week's work. We had laid a cobblestone driveway, with a pathway leading around one side of the house. On the other side of the house we had put in a retaining wall, made with pine trunks. The following week we would plant small shrubs, and flowers across the top of it. The foundations for putting in a small fountain had been laid. We were creating beauty, where there had been ugliness. Over the roof of the house I could see the Waitakere Ranges, gleaming splendidly in the late afternoon sun. The job I was learning would further embellish my already beautiful city. I was to be paid for adding beauty to beauty. One week into my new career, and I knew that I had found that which I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I would study as well as I could, under the directions of the colonel, both for him, and for myself. I returned home feeling very satisfied with myself. That weekend I wanted to be there as much as possible for mum. I wanted to show off to her my new found skills. On Saturday morning I got stuck into the man's work around the house. I cut the lawn, and cleaned out the gutters. All the while I could hear the colonel's voice ringing in my ears.
'Move it, McGregor! Get those damn gutters unblocked!'
I understood that now I was the man of the house, not just some little kid studying in his room, or downloading music. I had to step up, and do that which was expected of me. Mum would wander out occasionally, to follow my progress, and I could see that she was very proud of me. That really made me feel good.
'I've made us an apple pie, your favourite. Have a break, Gregory. Come on, let's have a slice of pie, and a cup of tea.'
'Ok, mum, I'll just put the ladder away, and I will be right in.'
After putting away my weapons of war, I washed my hands, and joined mum in the kitchen. She was beaming with joy. Although, as usual, I could see that she had been crying. Hopefully, this time they had been tears of joy. Well, that's what I wanted to think, anyway. Her tears of sadness were being washed away with tears of joy.
'You know, you don't need to do all that work. You must be tired after your week with Mr. Campbell. I can call someone to help with those jobs around the house.'
She looked at me, slightly expectantly.
'No, mum. I will be doing these jobs from now on. I'm no longer a schoolboy, I'm a man now. It's time for me to help out around the house. Besides, it's all good training for me. I love working with my hands, and I think I'm pretty good at it. The colonel is teaching me a lot.'
'The colonel?'
'I mean Mr. Campbell. I call him the colonel.'
She looked at me inquisitively. Probably for the first time ever she saw that I had things going on that she knew nothing about. On the one hand I wanted to tell her all about my battle training, but, on the other hand, I quite liked the idea of having things that were mine. It made me feel more grown up. More independent. I had my own life going on.
'You know, mum, we are going to be alright. With the money I'm now earning, we can cover all our costs, and live pretty well. You don't need to worry about things. We are going to get through this.'
Mum looked at me and smiled. How long had it been since I had seen her smile? I could tell that she was surprised at the new me. The new confident me. The new Scottish infantryman, who was going to take care of everything.
'Your father would be so proud of you.'
The tears, never far from her eyes, streaked down her cheeks. I felt like crying too, but I didn't. Those days were over. Our new life had started, we would forge ahead, together, towards as good a life as we could make.
'Listen, Gregory, don't you worry about me. You need to get on with your own life. I'll be alright.'
'No, mum. We are in this together. I will always be here for you. I'm not going anywhere. It's the two of us, mum, we can do this.'
I think we both realised that eventually I would get on with my life, away from mum. Eventually I would start my own family, but that would be far in the future. For now McGregor was going to stick with his people. My main mission in life would be to look after mum, and see her through this difficult time. I could see that mum was surprised at the new me. To be honest, I was pretty surprised myself. I had never spoken to her like that before. Previously I had been just a teenager, doing things, and behaving like all teenagers do. Now, I was acting like a man. I couldn't really understand what had happened, to bring on this radical change in me. Was it because I had started working? Was it because of the transformation from schoolboy to working man? Maybe it was because I had become McGregor, a fighter led by his courageous leader. I couldn't really tell. What I did know was that now I was the man of the house, and I would perform that role to the best of my abilities. Mum had looked after me up until this point. She had been the rock in my life. She had worked for me, and loved me. All that she had done for me, while I was growing up, had made me the man I now was. Now that she needed me, I would be there for her. The roles were now reversed, and it was time for me to be the strong one, helping her through this difficult time. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't let her down. I would be the strong shoulders that would carry the two of us ahead. Now I was McGregor, and McGregor would never let his people down.
The Living of a Life