If I would
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
of the women that bracket my life,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
Of my mother,
unvanquished,
plagued,
haunted,
struggling for sanity,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
Of Eldest sister,
triumphant,
cancer at bay,
rebuilding her life,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would site down and write I could not tell you
Of Second sister,
isolated,
warrior-ette,
confident in her G-d,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
Of Eldest daughter,
emerging,
seeking,
singing her first song,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
Of Second daughter,
mommy,
golden,
fluttering her wings,
If I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
Of the child of my child,
locked in her cage,
peering out,
awaiting her release,
if I would sit down and write.
If I would sit down and write I could not tell you
of the women that bracket my life,
if I would sit down and write.
“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