My mum starts every phone call to my mobile with, “You’re not driving are you?” before she will tell me what she’s calling for. Before mobiles, when my sister and I walked to a friend’s house, we would have to use their telephone to give her three rings to let her know we were there safely. If she heard an ambulance go by, you could see her do a quick physical and mental headcount to reassure herself it wasn’t for us (we’re both in our forties now and she still does this.)
As my sister and I rolled our eyes at another of her ‘worries’ she would always say the same thing to us “You wait until you’re a mother! You’ll understand!”
And she was right.
I’m sitting in a cupboard which is underneath my stairs.
Hidden behind the camping gear so they don’t know I’m there.
In the past, when they were small, I had to be quite nifty.
But I’ve much more time to hide myself now they’ve learned to count to fifty.
Of course they were the first to hide, whilst I counted slow and steady.
Managing to make a drink to their repeated shout “We’re ready!”
With mug in hand I answered them, “I’m coming, ready or not!”
And closed my ears to the giggles which give away their spot.
Wandering around the house and acting so uncertain.
Pretending that I couldn’t see their feet beneath the curtain.
Lasting out the “seeking” stage as long as I could fake it.
The silence was so pleasurable, I was loathe to ‘find’ and break it.