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Listen God,
Things haven't turned out too well next door this time.
You know how we've always felt a special kind of responsibility
towards the families that come to stay there,
and how we've come to love them all.
How having Aboriginal people as neighbours
has helped us begin to understand the problems they face.
How really sorry we've been to see them leave.
But God, did it have to hurt so much this time?
You know how it started.
A woman and three children making a new start as a family.
We discovered the oldest boy shared my birthday
as I was baking my cake.
Remember how Lizzie conned me into making him one too?
Then things started to go wrong.
Mum went missing with little Philip for three days,
and Michael and Lizzie stayed with us.
We were beside ourselves,
and so relieved when their mum returned that we said nothing,
thinking it wouldn't happen again.
But it did, and through it all
we grew to love those kids like family.
Michael went back to his foster home;
Fay felt unable to manage him, and I guess she made the right
decision.
Her lover was a soldier,
couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to marry her or not,
his parents couldn't cope with Fay, but
his love for her, and for Philip, his son, drew him back
Then that fateful Christmas
Philip drowned, 5 years and 11 days old,
16 January 1986,
Eileen's Birthday.
After that, well things went from bad to worse,
Fay took to drinking, and staying out nights,
Lizzie didn't get fed properly,
and Fay didn't pay the rent.
Coup de Grace,
the department kicked her out
and I failed her too.
Who would care for Lizzie?
Will Lizzie grow to live the same cycle?
how many Lizzies and Fays and Philips will it take
untill we learn how to care?
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