Every time I look at our picture of Mum I feel as though the sun has been brought in from outside. Eden and I have looked at it so many times since she died that we know the number of stripes on her swimsuit and that the nail on her little finger is longer.

We know that our Grandpa Jack took the picture because we can see him reflected in the amber eye-bits of her goggles. She has them pulled down around her neck like a band of black and gold. Grandpa must have taken the picture at a swim carnival, unless it’s from school, because she’s holding a ribbon up near her face, a gold ribbon.

There’s only one place in Bobbie’s loungeroom with a clear view of this picture, the seat up the kitchen-end of the couch. We call it the seat with the view. Eden and I have fought over this seat since we were nine years old. We look at that gold ribbon, back-lit and bright, and wonder where the sun’s coming from, because it looks as though it’s beaming straight out from her. I think that’s why, as we sit and stare, at some point we stop looking and just bask, as if that’s it, Mum was our sun…

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