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I stumbled out of my truck onto the red dirt track and rang the stiffness out of my hands. Driving for six hours straight out of Adelaide was not something I enjoyed, though it was part of my everyday life. I did this every couple of days, though my last visit hadn't been for a fortnight. My psychologist wanted to make sure that I was fit to come out here again. As I staggered to the petrol pump of the rundown petrol station I kicked myself for not taking a rest stop earlier. Stars swam in my eyes and my skin blistered under the forty degree heat as I hoisted myself onto the petrol pump. There I stayed for five minutes, my breath coming in waves, as I waited for my body to recover. My vision cleared, though the desert sand still shone with flickering mirages of sunlight and a wedge-tail eagle soared overhead.

I walk on legs of lead through the service station door. It smelt of wet dog food that had long past an expiry date. The room was no cooler than outside and would have made a claustrophobic faint. Packets of lollies I had never heard of lined the shelves that I couldn't tell the colour of through a layer of dust. The cashier was hibernating behind a garbage dump's worth of chip packets, so I grabbed three 2 litre bottles of water then left money on the counter and headed back into the sun. I dumped the first bottle over my head and relaxed as the cool water ran over me. I down the second bottle in two gulps and almost choke as my dry throat spasms at the touch.

Now to business. The reason I was there. This wasn't just a stopping point on my drive to deliver the fuel I had riding behind me for the company that had tried to pay me to retire. I walked to the building opposite and jumped a fence like the one you would find in a tennis court. The dry grass crackled under my feet and I soon reached the pavement, which was scarred with jagged lines of cracks and crawling with ants. I pushed open the door gently so that it didn't fall off its hinges and peered inside.

No one. Just the way I liked it. This old sandstone building used to be a centre of a community, but now I am the only one that comes here. I passed through into the main chamber of the old church and moved towards the back door to the right of the old crucifix that was propped under where it used to hang. I felt alive at that moment, I felt like I had a purpose. Every week, as I am about to start my walk, my heart leaps and bounds to reach back into what I used to have. And so I stand at that moment for longer than the average person just to savour the feeling.

Then I started walking.

I started on the third bottle of water as I hiked along the sandy track. The first felt long gone and the second had evaporated off my sunburnt skin. Spinifex bushes pricked at my angles, the path was overgrown and rarely treaded. I must be the only one to use it nowadays. The church faded into the distance behind me and the sun tracked over the sky, until I could have stopped to watch the sunset over the flat desert. But I didn't stop, because I was so close now. Just over that hill was the reason I walked twelve kilometres out into the middle of nowhere every couple of days. I was home.

The building sitting in the sand covered valley created by the rocky dune I had just crossed and the one opposite. It was in a bad way with its roof gone, like it had been torn down by some giant, and its walls were showing their roughly cut bricks. I dropped the half-empty water bottle and ran down the small indent on a vast force of nature. I ran straight past the house's skeleton and to the right side of the building, near the small creek that ran through my past property. Crossing the dry creek, I saw my wife again. She lay beneath that small gumtree which was the only shade I had seen in six hours. Her headstone was cracked and the dirt now looked the same as the red sand surrounding the grave. Not like when I buried her five years ago. My face went slack for the first time in that lonely fortnight and the corners of my mouth turned up. I had been away for too long.

I told my best friend about my last two weeks, listened to her about hers and promised that I would never be away for so long again. Finally, I said goodbye and went to collect my water bottle. I had stayed for far too long and needed to be back to my truck so I had time to drive to the next town that had some accommodation. The last traces of the brilliant red light had faded from the sky and the desert was cooling down, not enough to be pleasant, but enough for the nocturnal mice and scorpions to visit.

I walked to my water bottle and found it lying in the sand on its side. The cap was off and all the water had leaked out and already evaporated. The sunburn on my back suddenly felt a lot more prominent.

I couldn't panic. If I could just make it back to the service station and get more water. I just needed to move fast. I began to walk back the way I had come, faster than before, until I didn't have enough energy to continue the speed. My head felt like it was underwater as I caught my first glimpse of the church in the distance over the flat saltbush covered landscape and my tongue was sandpaper amongst my bubbly saliva. I had never been this hot in my life. My muscles felt stiff and my sweat had stopped coming. I noticed the red sand no longer felt hot as I collapsed to the ground, though my skin felt oddly cool and clammy. Every breath felt like inhaling embers and I emptied the one and a half bottles of water onto the floor. The vomit had no substance, or evidence that I had eaten today. Before I knew it, I closed my eyes and lost sense of everything.

I woke in a hospital bed and had to think for five minutes before I remembered what had happened. Heatstroke. I finally put words to the thoughts I had gathered in my numb brain. But I should be dead. At that heat there was no way I could survive with little water and no one to come rescue me. And there wasn't, no one knew what I was doing, did they?

My eyes managed to focus on the face above me and saw the concerned expression written on the lips of the young woman. I recognised her. And I knew her very well. My daughter's face lit up when she saw me stir.

"You're alive!" She shrieked, letting her emotions go. "Dad, what were you thinking!? Out alone by yourself with no water! Thank goodness you're safe!" She went to fling her arms around me and then restrained herself. "I was so worried."

"How... did I get here?" I asked, surprised that my voice even worked. My throat felt a lot better.

"I was worried about you. The inn you stay at last night said that you left in a hurry at four in the morning! So... I followed you and found you lying in the sand. I called an ambulance and hoped that they would be in time." Her look of concern returned and I realise something. Five years ago, when my wife passed away, I thought I had no one. Now, I realised how wrong I was. I looked up into my daughter's face and smiled.

She was crying.