The dream
that
haunts me
The dream that haunts me is not Gothic or other-worldly.
I am holding you.
You are the age
that you are now.
I’m holding you
alive, silent.
Your face is beautiful
as it always is.
Your eyes guilty
like when you used to say
you had no homework
or you brought home a stray kitten
or your boyfriend needed money
cos he was goin to get beat up.
A stranger’s voice falters on the phone line
... your daughter ... driving … suicide
At the same instant,
I’m holding you,
for a moment.
Why didn't you talk to me?
“Being at home can be fun, insulating, relaxed, boring or isolating ... depending on how the day is going.”*
School holidays are almost over in my part of the world – six long weeks of noise and squabbling balanced by hot, lazy days at the beach or the pool with lots of daring exploits and laughter. Many of our days were spent at home, basking in simple pleasures like baking, playing games or outdoor pursuits – trying to relax the everyday routines of school-morning bustle and ‘having to be somewhere on time’. However pleasant, I must admit to being relieved that life gets back to normal next week, and I can reclaim some of my own time for writing again!
* From Being Mummy by Anne‑marie Taplin published April 2007