I am the oldest of four girls,

And four girls can be a crowd.

Time alone with Mother was the stuff of wishes.

One  morning I awoke early and realized:

My sisters are still asleep!

There was a faint rattle of cutlery.

And Mummy is down in the kitchen by herself!

I slithered out of bed and crept down the stairs

Masterfully negotiating the squeaks

Hardly believing my good luck.

 

Mummy was alone,

Sitting in the sunlight, her elbows propped

On the table already set for four hungry children

With strawberry jam in a cut-glass bowl

And vivid little rainbows on the cloth.

Her shiny black hair was pinned in a thick scroll

At the back, with a sneaky wisp escaped over her ear.

Her bending neck was white, and graceful

Her gown a little open over her leaning breasts -

Almost not quite ‘Mother’.

 

‘I can still hear the sonorous gurgle of the percolator

Smell the pungent coffee

See the steam from her rosebud cup as she sips

The thin porcelain just touching her lips.

She is absorbed in the magazine spread out before her

Enjoying the large glossy pictures, reading their captions.

I cannot believe my good luck.

I pray  to God that my sisters will stay asleep

Please – please - for  ten minutes more.

I want this time!’

 

How my quiet mother must have stifled a sigh

When she saw me, eyes agog with anticipation.

But she only smiled and said, ‘Good morning, Honey.’

She poured a glass of juice inviting me to sit with her

And right away I started chattering about my funny dream.

She put her magazine aside, drank her cooling coffee,

Listened and laughed with me in all the right places.

I didn’t know then that ten minutes could be so many things.

Now, I am a mother.  And I remember that day.

So - I, too,  smile and say: ‘Good morning, Honey.’ 

 

cbt