Belonging in the Body
The lawns were crusted in silver frost when my mother and I left the house to go power-walking at five in the morning. We crunched across people’s front lawns, leaving footprints upon the grass. She walked hard and fast, as if using her body to smash glass. She pummelled the chilled darkness, leading with her skull, her fists pumping like machinery. The route that took us up town was my favourite. We streamed along the glowing ribbon of shop windows on Tutanekai Street in Rotorua. She wanted to transform her body in the darkness. I loved her, and joined her there. I grew up with women, mostly single working mums, who performed never-ending tasks to make safe and happy homes for their kids. But these women could not or would not…