Not my star, I am not one of those frivolous mofos who have everything and buy a star named after them to fill the desperate need for things, fucking losers, but my star in that I find it night after night, watching over me, settling my soul and calming my mind. As I gaze into it, I find a sense of peace in my chaotic life. Ordinarily I hate the peace - it never lasts and fills me with a sense of foreboding. I function well in chaos, five things going on at once, problem solving skills at the ready, never any time to sit alone with my thoughts, to question my existence. Peace feels wrong, like I don't deserve it. Gah. No, not peace, calm. Calm is the place that pushes my shoulders to my ears and has me coiled to explode. Calm is where you let your guard down and allow yourself to dream so that you don't see the hammer swing and destroy everything you have worked bloody hard to build. The place after everything turns to shit and you find yourself alone and questioning all your life decisions in a vain attempt to figure out what the fuck you did to deserve such atrocious luck in life. Peace is an illusion too far out of reach - chaos is currency. Just tonight another foreign power launched a pointless invasion of an unsuspecting nation, plunging the world into another 'will they won't they' battle to distract them from some scandal or show us whose dick is bigger. Urgh, I hate those in power. They don't care if their escapade means the price of football boots go up, again. And we must suffer for it. I shiver and look back to my star, willing it to help me calm down.

A squeal from inside pulls me from my thoughts and I heave a sigh as I turn to head inside and help Deakin settle our wild terrors. Bed time is always a chaotic shitshow.

"Righto, boys. BED. No more being wild" I say as I walk through the front door, locking eyes with my giggling eight year old who jumps from the couch with a squeal and tears down the hallway towards his bedroom. I look over to my partner, collecting monster trucks and lego from the bright multicoloured rug that covers our loungeroom floor. Deakin looks up at me with a face of pure exhaustion and a sense of gratitude coats him as he calls to our eldest on the recliner, "you heard, Mum. Bed".

Blake's body sags as he accepts the inevitable - one parent can be conquered, two is too much of a challenge. As he trudges to his room, I follow, stroking his hair as I break off from him and slip into his brother's room. "Elliot Marcus Thorne, are you in here?" I call, looking deliberately past the mound of blankets on his bed and walking loudly around his room. "Hmm, perhaps you are in here," I fling open his wardrobe doors as a whispered giggle emanates from the mound. "Ooh, what was that," I say as I turn back towards the bed, navigating around the discarded football boots on his bedroom floor and carefully dodging the toy tractors and farm he has set up on his shaggy green rug. "Perhaps he is under here," I whip the dangling sheet from the side of his bed and bend to look underneath. Another giggle escapes the mound. "Well gee, he mustn't be in here, perhaps I will take a nap in this comfy blanket heap here on the bed," I sit on the edge of the bed and move to lay on top of the mound. 

"Rawr!" shouts my darling boy as he explodes from the blankets and wraps his little arms around me.

 "Ah, my gosh! You scared me!" I declare, wrapping his small body in a cuddle. I breathe in the fresh eucalyptus scent of his hair and soak in his melodic laughter. I pull myself away and settle him onto his pillow, tucking his dinosaur covered blanket around him. I kiss his temple, "Sweet dreams".

He reaches for my face and wraps his chunky little fingers around my cheeks. His face turns serious as his sparkling blue eyes gaze adoringly into mine, "I love you mummy, sorry for being wild".

I kiss his freckled nose and thank him for his apology. "Oh my darling boy, there is nothing wrong with being wild. Just not at bedtime". I boop his nose with my finger and grab his stuffed dinosaur from the floor beside his bed. "Right, now you and Kevin get some sleep, and maybe we can have pancakes before school tomorrow". I kiss his forehead as he smiles excitedly and snuggles Kevin closer.

As I make my way to Blake's room on the other side of the hallway, Deakin locks his eyes to mine as we swap charges.

"They are in fine form tonight" he proclaims.

I chuckle as I enter my eldest son's room. Blake's floor is strewn with discarded artworks, lego creations and clothing. The transition from child to teen is in full swing and my heart breaks a little knowing my first born is drifting further from me by the day. Soon he will be driving, and dating and leaving me for someone he meets at uni and wants to start a band with. I blink away the thought and turn my attention to the young boy lying snuggled in his galaxy blanket. His blonde hair falls across his brow as his curious eyes find mine.

"Looks like someone needs a haircut," I say as I settle myself beside him and brush his golden locks from his face.

"Mum, do you reckon the war will reach us if it happens?" His curious eyes are serious, his brow furrowed in anticipation of my response. Oh my boy. So perceptive, so ready to be grown, to navigate this fucked up world, and so so innocent to survive it.

"I dunno if there will be a war, buddy. And even if there is I doubt it will reach us."

A half truth. The bombs and guns and troops aren’t likely to reach us, but the impacts certainly will. They already are and war hasn’t even been declared yet.

"Go to sleep and we can worry about this if we need to". I make sure he is tucked in tight and kiss his forehead.

"Love you". His words fill my heart with more joy than I know what to do with, despite the frequency with which he tells me. My eleven year old has always been so open with his heart, so generous with his love. I hope he never needs to hide this sensitive part of himself, though I know the world will demand it of him sooner or later - men are not meant to be emotional, soft or caring in the eyes of our society.

I hold in a sigh as I remind him that I love him more and turn to switch off his lamp as he reaches for the novel on his nightstand. I chuckle, "Fine but only one chapter, then it's lights out, you have school tomorrow".

"Deal," he nods, settling in to read about some epic adventure in a far away kingdom as I turn and head back to the loungeroom.

Deakin is at the island bench, pouring a glass of rosé and handing it to me. He picks up his beer and we head back out to the porch. I settle into my seat, well worn from the years spent out here unwinding from the tiresome days. Deakin sinks into the chair next to me and lets out a sigh.

"Phwoar. What a day. Did Blake tell you he wants to audition for the school musical?"

My heart. My sensitive son has never been one for traditional 'manly' hobbies and though I love him for it, I worry for him.

"That's great, he would kill that".

"Rae. The other kids are going to eat him alive. He needs to get into sports and you know it". Deakin locks me in his defiant gaze. He had always loved sports and was naturally athletic, would have gone pro had his knee not given out in high school.

"No, Deakin. Don't do that.” I place my glass on the wooden table between us, “He does not need to hide who he is to make others happy. To fit some fucked up mould society has given him just because he is a boy." Deakin closes his eyes in exasperation, masking his eye roll and exhaling, clearly tired of hearing the same rhetoric stream from my mouth.

"Oh don't give me that. You know how I feel about this. Elliot is the sports kid, Blake is not. You need to accept this and support him." I stare him down, ready to fight if I need to.

He opens his eyes defeatedly, "I know, I know and I do. But what happens when the other boys in his class turn on him? How will we protect him then?" Deakin looks at me with such desperation, such worry in his eyes that I cannot hold his gaze, turning instead to my star.

I feel Deakin's stare boring into me as I close my eyes and exhale. "We just will. He deserves a life he loves, Deak."

Deakin doesn't reply. He stares into the darkness and finishes the last mouthful of his beer. As he stands to make his way inside he looks down at me, "I don't know how to convince you to love your life, Rae, but I will always help you show our kids how to love theirs." He places a kiss to my temple. "I'm heading in to watch the game. Enjoy watching your star." His eyes flick briefly into the sky before he opens the screen door and heads inside.

I shiver. I don't not love my life. I’ve just always felt that there is something missing. That there is no purpose to my existence and it smothers me. I know Deakin sees that in me, knows he feels my struggle. I love him for staying despite it. Love him for the ways he tries to make my life easier, loveable. He does so much for me - loves me when I am dark and stormy, when I am lost and angry and failing at so much. Lets me be me and never asks me to change, even if I am difficult to love, difficult to live with. He gave me my boys and I will never be able to repay him for that. I will love him forever for it. And yet …

I let loose another sigh and look once again to my star. My grounding force. Trust me, I know how it sounds - what an absolute nut job. But the truth is I have found it every night since I was little. My earliest memory of it is just after my mother died. When everything was dark and hard and all consuming. I remember running from the house and into our yard that night after screaming in my father's face as he sat me down and told me my mother wouldn't be coming home from the hospital this time. It was pitch black and still and as I hit the front fence I realised I had nowhere to run to. I was trapped. In this yard, in this house, in this feeling of overwhelming loneliness and grief. I looked up to the clear night sky and there it was. My star. Shining brighter than all the others and grounding me with a sense of being held, seen. When we moved into this house just after Elliot was born, I was consumed with darkness. He didn't sleep much and no matter what I tried he just cried and cried. I was snapping at Blake when he knocked over his juice and poor Deakin copped an ear lashing for the smallest things. I felt like a failure and a burden. One night, Deakin was rocking Elliot to sleep in his room and I came out here to breathe. Tears stinging in my eyes as I settled into the new porch seat Deakin had bought me to read in. As I leant back in the seat and let my head fall back, eyes staring unseeing into the night sky, my star came into focus. Shining steadily in the darkness of the night, reminding me that I wasn't alone and I wasn't lost and I would be OK. It showed me that darkness makes light shine brighter. So I leaned into it. Sitting out here night after night with a coffee or a rosé and letting its reassuring presence ground me. Like a guardian ensuring I know where I am, who I am.

I gaze at my star and ponder the meaning of my existence. Allow myself to unsheathe some complicated truths. I love my kids, they are my world, but surely there is more to life than this? Surely there is more to me than this? Or is this all I am meant for? An ordinary existence in a world full of injustice and hate and destruction. I am just meant to let it all happen while I go to work and come home and love my family. Cooking dinner and doing laundry while the world crumbles around me. Cocooned and distracted in our life of homework and bills and survival.

I sigh again, letting a calm wash over me as I sip my rosé. Such philosophical pondering for a Wednesday evening.

My star shimmers in the darkness and my stomach flutters with foreboding. I shake it off. This is what stars do, they shimmer. They glow. Year 8 Science taught me this. Though in all the years I have gazed at my star it always felt more steady than a shimmer. I shake my head and wriggle my shoulders. Settle down, mate.

My star glows brighter and my gut bottoms out. This feels ominous and icky. I grab my glass and make to head inside, obviously more tired than I realised.

As I turn one last time to the sky before reaching for the door handle, my star SHATTERS. Explodes in a light so bright I am thrown from the porch and onto the soft buffalo grass that makes up our front lawn. As I land the earth shakes and I see a man lying on said lawn, blood gushing from his arm.

I look through the front window and find Deakin watching the game, his beer in hand seemingly oblivious to the chaos that has erupted before me. The fuck?  I blink trying to take in the scene in front of me. I have only had one glass, right?! Maybe I fell asleep?! Well, drunk or dreaming, there was a man lying on my front lawn and I need to do something.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I move to check on the man sprawled on the lawn. His skin is tanned a deep golden bronze, stretched over muscles that look like they have been carved out of stone. His hair is a thick, golden mess and as I reach his side, I am flooded by his scent.

He doesn't smell like a man lying wounded in the remnants of my perfectly manicured front garden. He smells like goddam sunshine. A burst of sunshine, sharp and zesty - clean, bright and very out of place in my front yard. It's the smell of a life without mortgages or school runs. And it's bleeding all over my fucking lawn.

I run my eyes over his body and land on a nasty gash on his forearm. A deep one. Well shit. I whip my shirt over my head and use it to apply pressure to the wound. First Aid training to the rescue. A whimper escapes him as his eyes flicker open. My eyes lock onto his clear, sparkling turquoise blue eyes, which widen as he shudders and falls back into unconsciousness.

Before I can call to Deakin to come help me, another rumble rocks the earth beneath me. I look up as a pair of strong arms grip the bleeding man and angry dark eyes look into mine.

A command in a language I do not understand and yet instantly recognise barks in my ears before black smoke surrounds me. I look desperately at the front window, the blue light of the television flickering through the curtains. My body is enveloped in shadows and tingles as the smoke wraps around me and pulls me tight. My shout for Deakin is smothered as my stomach bottoms out and I surrender to the darkness.