Carrie had disappeared from sight, rounding the curve of Skipper Creek inlet behind a sand island thick with mangroves. This mound of sand and greenery sat right in the middle of the freshwater stream flowing down from Skipper Creek. Nearby, a tall paperbark tree provided a small patch of shade for us.
The locals had told us that, just a week before our arrival, the island had been hit with torrential rain. The shoreline and creek edges bore evidence of it—strewn with deadwood and debris. As I stood there, my eyes were drawn to the strong root systems of the surrounding mangroves. They reminded me of something—despite the traumas of my childhood, I had found a solid foundation in nature and animals.
Anna and I stood in silence, absorbing the energy of the place. Then, slowly, I wandered around the bend to see where Carrie had gone.
She stood in the water, watching a large butterfly. I smiled at her, touched her shoulder gently, and nodded before continuing past her, walking further around the mangrove island.
As I moved slowly along the edge, I noticed activity among the mangrove peg roots. Three large mudskippers darted in and out of the water, watching me. Each step I took seemed to catch their attention—it was as if they were keeping track of my every movement.
They followed me along the island’s curve, sticking to the shadows and shelter of the mangrove roots. But when I stepped beyond the shade, where the sunlight hit the sand, they stopped. I turned back to see if they would follow, but they had disappeared.
I had shared a moment with them.
I was in unfamiliar territory—their territory.
I kept walking through the shallow, flowing waters of Skipper Creek, completing a full circle.
I was now heading back toward Anna, who had perched herself on the sloping inner wall of sand. The gradient descended from the soft white beach to the darker sandstone tones of the eroded inlet.
She watched as I walked through the very area I had pointed to earlier—the place where Mel’s body was discovered in 1984.
I stopped.
The clear rainwater swirled around my ankles, flowing past me. The coarse sand shifted beneath my feet. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small piece of oyster shell I had picked up earlier.
A memory surfaced.
I was eight years old when my thigh connected with the sharp, purple-edged oyster shells along the rocks in Mala Bay. The memory returned—a gentle reminder of how fragile and sacred human beings truly are.
“I just had a connection with the mudskippers,” I said as I sat next to Anna. “And now, oyster rocks again.”
I hesitated, then added, “I was looking for a coral cross for Mel, but I never found one.”
“Really?” Anna asked.
She reached over, opening her hand to reveal a small piece of white coral.
“That’s weird,” she said. “When I was walking on the beach, I saw this piece and felt like I had to pick it up for you.”
I took the coral and rolled it between my fingers, studying it from different angles.
A memory hit my chest, and I went quiet.
Anna continued, “To me, it looks like a hand with five fingers.”
“Wow,” I whispered, taking a deep breath, trying to free the feeling tightening in my chest.
Anna tilted her head. “What do you see, Haze?”
I looked at the coral again.
“It’s definitely a hand,” I said. “All the fingers are there. Hands are significant. I have a ‘hand’ connection with Mel on the beach.”
Anna shivered. “Okay, you just gave me chills, girl.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admitted. “I actually drew a picture not long after Mel died—back when the dreams kept coming every night. In my dreams, she was alive. She kept appearing, trying desperately to prove to me that she wasn’t dead.”
I could see the drawing clearly in my mind.
“It was of the ocean. Two hands were in it—one reaching up from the water, the other reaching down from above… from heaven.”
I paused, then smiled slightly. “I still have that drawing. It’s water-damaged now, spotted with mould, but I’ve carried it with me through forty-four house moves in the past forty-one years.” I met Anna’s eyes. “I’ll show you one day.”
Anna returned my smile. “I’d really love that.”
Carrie wandered back around the bend, her feet skimming the flowing water. She wore her togs, her sarong now draped over her shoulder. Her hair was damp. She moved slowly, as if absorbing something unseen.
“Well, girls,” she said, standing ankle-deep in the creek, “I just had the most amazing experience.”
We both looked at her expectantly.
“Two huge butterflies joined me on my little walk,” she said. “Then, I sat down, and they stayed nearby. And then… it was like they told me to get in the water. To immerse myself in this beautiful, clean water flowing down from the mountains somewhere.”
She looked serene—different from when she had first disappeared around the bend.
“I had a similar encounter,” I said. “Three rather large mudskippers followed me. I need to find out the cultural symbolism of mudskippers now, because they stayed with me the whole way. It felt like they wanted me to know they were there.”
Anna smiled at me and nodded.
We fell into silence again.
All of us taking in the natural beauty of this sacred place.
This was the spot where Mel’s soul had detached from her human frame.
We never spoke about the violence she had endured.
We just sat in this sand gully, surrounded by high banks that formed a protective barrier, shielding us from view. No one on the beach could see us.
It felt like we had been drawn into the land’s embrace—a quiet, protective caress from Mother Nature and her creatures.
Skipper Creek inlet looped in a full circle, cradling the small round island of mangroves in its centre.
A perfect, enclosed space for ‘Spirit Being Human’ to heal and grow.
Sacred.
Quote-
‘The mudskipper holds a unique place in symbolism across various cultures, emphasising resilience, perseverance, and adaptability. In dream interpretation, they encourage us to explore beyond comfort zones and embrace change. The lessons they teach are valuable for personal growth and self-development. So next time you come across one, remember its powerful symbolic messages: adapt, innovate, overcome challenges, and maintain balance in all aspects of life.‘ copied from https://truespiritanimal.org/mudskipper-symbolism-and-meaning/