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?
“I know now that everything changes, and it’s usually too quickly.”*
Having children reminds us of the changing nature of ourselves and our world. Before children entered my life, years could go by and I would usually have external events to mark them. Now, years are remembered for my children’s birth or ages, and our experiences together. (And the time before the birth of my first child feels like a thousand years ago!). Their growth seems rapid and shockingly sudden – and my time with them is all the more precious for knowing that.
* © from 'Being Mummy' by Anne‑marie Taplin, published April 2007