Written and contributed by Lisa Plucknett, Maleny
When I turned 89, I said
“I have a final wish;
To skinny-dip just one more time,
Pretend I am a fish.”
My son said “You can do it, Mum;
If you can walk on rocks;
I‘ll even dunk you in, Mum,
Wear my hat – But not my jocks.”
I staggered with my wonky knee,
Determination strong;
“Who cares if I look like a whale.”
My happy mermaid song.
To once more have a skinny dip
Would warm my ancient heart;
And as I tossed my clothes, I said;
“At least this is a start.”
Of course, my body’s gone to pot,
Obesity gone mad;
But my son said “Well who cares, Mum.”
He’s a most discerning lad.
He then approached two anglers,
“Do you mind my Mum’s last wish;
To have a sunset Skinny Dip,
She will not scare the fish.”
I wallowed in the water,
Looked like Moby Dick, the whale;
I felt like putting up a sign,
“Happiness for Sale.”
My withered legs I stretched and flexed,
Bum – anchored in the sand;
The water gently stroked my ribs;
And Chris put out his hand.
“I’ll haul you out when ready, Mum.”
But I said “Could we loiter;
I just need to linger longer,
In these therapeutic waters.
(I wondered if James Cook and crew
Had also skinny dipped;
‘Cause a sailor cannot wear his gear
To careen and clean his ship.)
I also had a niggling doubt
My legs would let me down;
If Marg and Chris abandoned me,
At high tide I would drown.
At least Marg did a photo shoot,
A modest silhouette;
A rear view of my son and me;
Of a day I’ll not forget.
It nearly took a forklift
To haul me from my groove;
My legs had turned to jelly,
I really couldn’t move.
But Chris kept on hauling
The tub of lard called “Mum”;
And a distant angler cheered me,
And yelled out “well done, love.”
And then the bliss continued
At “Caterina’s on the Bay.”
When Christ bought me my first cocktail
So good – I yelled “Ole.”
We ate fish and chips at water’s edge,
Watched the sun cast final rays;
And I’ll always treasure memories
Of that very special day.
(Thank you Chris and Margaret, for being so supportive, especially to Chris for making it happen and getting me in and out of the Pacific. And to Margaret for recording the moment for posterity and for my funeral – whenever.)
