The thistle meets its destiny

To those who know me, or think they do, this is the one thing that got me to Korea, the rest of the actions since this thing occurring, have been mere consequences, I recognise this story as the biggest turning point in my life, and I'm so grateful for it.

The Thistle meets his destiny




I lay there basking in the hot sun, on the big red Honda four wheeler motorbike. It was covered in dried mud dripping from its frame stopping only inches from the ground. It was as if the mud was frozen in time. With my grubber lying behind me I stared mindlessly out into the lime green pasture. Three hours sleep only moments before just wasn’t enough, especially after a hard night out on the grog and smoking the herbal medicine. I had missed the mornings milking completely and I was glad I had. The thought of seeing the boss sent shivers down my spine …. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing him either.



It took a while but my arms and legs eventually got the message as I staggered across the uneven paddock to a lone thistle, each bump seemed like a mountain to climb and every drop made me gulp in fright. The poor thistle had no idea of what was coming. As I raised the grubber like a golf club and sliced it out of the ground, roots and all, I chuckled to myself, “Huh, this was kinda like what I had done to the boss earlier that morning”, “Oh no, what had I done!!!!” My cheeks lost their redness and a tear of regret sat in the corner of my left eye.



The sound of his bike purring down the farm track encased my ears and all I could picture was the look of disappointment in his face. My arms started moving faster, eating away at those ghastly thistles and a cool sweat formed beneath my pits. I heard the engine cut out and dared to glance up. Momentarily I was captured in his slow movements striding across the paddock. As he got closer a second tear found a resting place in the corner of my right eye. This day, there was none of the normal banter, no talk of the days plan, nor of yesterday’s cricket game. The marks had shone out on his face where the stream of grief and disbelief had laid tracks on his face, and I knew why.



“Did you come and get some gas last night?? He had demanded in agony.

“No” I had replied, although my face, as white as fresh cow’s milk, told him otherwise.



I followed him back to the shed on my big red, leaving the grubber beside the thistle - I wished I now was. The evidence was clear, a full twenty litre can on petrol left carelessly below the tanks, where much, much more had been stolen from not long before. The police were there waiting to take me away. I was guided to the patrol car where I sat behind the bars wondering, “Is this really real?”



Deep inside my head I travelled back to the previous afternoon. It had been quiet; I had been resting at home, a small white batch no bigger than the area of an average sized sitting room, situated on a large section with a lawn that was long enough to make hay off, in the centre of a tiny village on the outskirts of Central Hawkes Bay, named Takapau. I was drinking a well earned beer after a hard day’s work, when two mates had turned up. They entered my castle and found the skeletal remains of their cannabis plants scattered throughout. Fury swept across their brow, this was something they weren’t ameant to know about. In my haste and over the smoking of a few peace pipes an offering was made and free petrol would be their token. We raised our glasses and drunk many, many bottles of courage in agreement.



Finally the time came and I cast my misgivings and doubts aside. Adrenalin took over and under a blanket of darkness we crept, as quietly as drunken people could, up to the petrol tank on the bosses’ farm. I with my key let the angel juice flow. The deal was complete and so were my days at a job I loved so much and with a boss who treated me so well. He had believed in me when no one else would, and had seen hope where I saw failure and I repaid his faith by doing this!



I arrived at the Police Station and, like a criminal, was taken in the back to the cells. My face was quivering and my hands were shaking. All the soap in the world couldn’t of cleaned the dirtiness off my body that I felt. The ride had supposedly been for a breath test and it worked well. I passed the test, but failed to keep my strength. I bawled like a baby and confessed my sins to the officer. The thought of looking into a mirror and seeing a stranger terrified me. But it was too late; or was it?



The police let me off with a warning. In confusion, the boss said “farewell”. No golden handshake to be had. And as I stood by my car listening to the wind, her words telling me what I had ignored the night before. Something was going to change, I didn’t know when nor how, but dreams would come true and this would be the blessing I had been hunting for all my life.



Less than six months later help was at hand, and by golly I wasn’t going to play the folly for too much longer. That night of regret when I saw myself for not being this cool calm and collected person, but rather a soul who walked over too many toes, wistfully drifting over the dry dusty plains of Takapau in mid summer. It was the night that left a scar deep within my heart, but set in motion a band aid, to heal all my pains?