My little town in the middle of nowhere by Charlea Smith

My little town in the middle of nowhere

By Charlea Smith, Year 9

In the middle of nowhere sits a town called Bedourie. It sits in Wankangnurru land. It’s a small bubble and barely seen as anything more than just a gas station on most maps. It’s small but it’s full of people I call family. I grew up there, knowing almost every person who lived there or close by in the neighbouring towns of Birdsville and Boulia. This small bubble of a town is the place I have the most beloved memories of and the only place that felt like home even after I left. My favourite memories of all would be the ones I shared with my Uncie and Aunt Jackie. My Uncie and I would watch old Elvis Presley performance tapes on the VHR and eat candies like the gummy Lifesavers. We’d sit and watch them all day. When I was three years old in a town like Bedourie, being three years old and having nothing to do called for creativity and outside thinking. So, I’d write stories and draw and hang out with my beloved Uncie, playing cards or watching movies. These memories are probably the earliest I have and they are some of my favorite. I’d spend all my time with my Uncie and cousin Lara. Lara and I were like sisters, living together up until we were seven. We’d spend time playing make believe and getting up to mischief. One of my most vivid memories with Lara was when we wanted to be hairdressers and cut each other’s hair. I remember Mom being so mad about it and telling my Nan and Uncie and Aunt Jackie. They all laughed heartily. I recall these memories like they were yesterday, and look back on them fondly. These simple and silly memories are what makes me, me. If it weren’t for these moments I probably would’ve never grown up and realised cutting your own hair and jumping on boiling trailers and broken car roofs was silly. These moments are the moments that I miss as a child though because doing those things now makes you look crazy. My dog Oscar was always around when I needed him; he was such a soft soul and cared for all creatures, befriending even cats when he’d come across one. I’ve always been allergic to certain animals, especially dogs and cats, but my dog Oscar was one that I wasn’t allergic to. I started drawing when I was little, wishing that one day I could be an artist. I wanted to paint and draw and one day see my works displayed in a gallery. But now I know that you don’t have to have your works featured anywhere to be an artist. My Nan and my Aunts were all artists, from gallery show cases to just creating in your lounge room. My Aunts Joyce and Jean Crombie are the gallery artists. Their works made their way from canvas to fences and walls around our small bubble of a town. My Nan, Mona Smith, however, kept her art around her house. Dot paintings and photographs and an old half-made didgeridoo adorned her walls and halls, from the lounge to the bedrooms. It was everywhere. Growing up, art surrounded me fully and I don’t know what I’d do without it today.