Spared
At the mall today
almost lost you
didn't hold your hand
wasn't my weekend
your father
held it tight
so small at four
in the café
bought you juice
Did the man
see you sit
at your table
did you see him
solitary
at his table
next to madness
demons in his head
rifle in his bag
Rambo for a day.
Four minutes
You
get in the car
he shoots a girl
your waitress
who gave you juice
shoots others
coffee in their cups
you
next to your dad
in the car
exit
him
close
in the car park
more shots
Bang
Bang Bang Bang
Bang Bang
Bang
finally
for himself
BANG
Did you hear
The radio reports
seven dead
your father
on the phone
no words
I knew
you were there
four minutes
to spare
“My patience, resolutions and beliefs are tested to the limits – sometimes daily.”*
Right at this moment one of my challenges is the constant, tuneless whistling from my elder son. When my boys were babies it was getting them to sleep or trying to figure out why they were crying. On any given day now, it might be squabbling, fighting, teasing, screaming, shouting or rudeness. Who’d be a parent? We might well question ourselves after the event, but we can’t very well put them back! Just how we find those inner resources, how we constantly demand more of ourselves, how we keep marching up that hill with a smile on our face and gladness in our heart at the sight of our ‘babies’ is one of life’s mysteries.
* © from Being Mummy by Anne‑marie Taplin published April 2007