Can We Have A Guarantee?

By Alison April 3, 2011 1 Comment 2 Min Read

Here in the UK it is Mothers Day and today we have sat and watched my Mum look beautiful in an elegant restaurant (with the most divine interior!) and perform her extra-special choking on Coca Cola trick while laughing probably more in despair than mirth, at something downright ludicrous that I said. So I did what any kind, loving daughter would do, and watched her choke and inwardly wondered at how hyena like her laugh had become, and then saw her eyes feel with tears and realised she was indeed struggling to breath because she had blocked her airwaves with coke (happens all the time), so took it into my head to beat her senseless, which did the trick and soon we were back to laughing at something ludicrous that Barbie, Mum’s sister said and before I knew it, orange juice spurted out my nose and in their panic to prevent me dribbling the whole glass down my glittery cleavage, my family gathered their wits and offered me a paper wrapped toothpick with which to wipe up any further potential spillage.
Yes. It was funny if you were there.
But the thing is this: we are two peas in a pod. Neither of us can laugh without losing our dignity. She is my Mum. I am her daughter. We laugh with pure abandon. Think too much. Analyse every word said. Love our children too fiercely. Fear for them, wish that we too could wrap them up in cosmic cotton wool…
And so today, on Mother’s Day, this gorgeous poem from Gillian K. Ferguson is for my Mum.
I thought, apart from certain eclipses of the heart
and mind, spirit hardships, I wanted to live, but
now I gobble days and Oliver-ask for more, more.
Thoughts of any theft of life, early death, tragic
family accident, squirm, curse worms in my gut,
drain my love tamed brain. Because you need me
need me, and even the idea of you left cuddle-less,
motherless and fatherless makes me feel mad.
Wrap us up in cotton wool, bullet proof our
hearts, lead-line our only nut-hard so hurtable heads.
Why can’t we guarantee, all three-free
with any family that loves each other to the point of dream.
I love you Mum.x

1 Comment

  1. Daja says:

    If this post had a "like" button like Facebook, I'd wish for a "love" button!

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