Weirdly familiar strangers ...

 

When my mum had gone to bed, I looked inside the wallet - 

She'd been opening and closing it all afternoon - 

She'd fallen asleep on the settee, clasping the worn scrap of leather to her chest -

Now she lay in her dreams, under sheets washed clean this morning - 

My dad had given up watching Morse - 

Soon he'd totter up the stairs - 

The two of them were becoming strangers to me - 

They were figures made up of shards of memory - 

Every so often, I'd see them as they were - 

Then, before my eyes, they'd turn into strangers once more, each one weirdly familiar, yet different - 

I opened the wallet - 

There was my mum, with me and my brother beside her - 

We're different people, too - 

When she was young, my Aunty Sylvie thought my mum looked like a film star - 

18.30

Sunday 7 January 2018

Staunton Road

Havant 

Hampshire