HALCYON by Witi ihimaera Once there was a nest, floating on the sea at summer solstice, and happy voices to charm the wind. And somewhere, somewhere, float scattered straws, perhaps only a single straw, which I may light upon…. It was summer, and my parents had decided that they would go to Auckland for a few weeks. We were five, then: Mum and Dad, myself, Kara and Pare. I was the eldest, an important seven years old, and there were my two little sisters. It was decided that we would stay with Nanny Caroline while Mum and Dad were away. We'd never been to Nanny's place. She was an auntie of Mum's and lived up the Coast near Ruatoria. We didn't want to go. Auckland seemed a better place, but Mum said, ‘No, you can't come.’ But as a bribe, only if we were good children at Nanny's mind you, she would bring back some toys; a red clockwork train for me, and a doll each for Kara and Pare. That decided the matter. So one morning, while we were still asleep, Mum got up and packed a small suitcase with clothes she thought we would need; a few shirts, shorts and a pair of