When Dad’s Away

When Dad’s away my mother blooms,

a princess in peachy lace,

gives the hoover the run around

serenading the baby on her satin hip.

 

We feast on scrumbled eggs and tin salmon

cross-legged on old magazines in front of the telly,

let the baby suckle to kitten-soft sleep,

leave the fairies the dishes.

 

Night-time my brother takes the dog to bed

and I whisper waking spells,

crossing fingers three times, three times, three o’clock,

to tiptoe to the big bed

and lie in the lee of her back.

 

Miranda Lewis 2016

The Morning-Go-Round

carousel-ted-strutz

The Morning-Go-Round

Quick bath, slurp of tea, working face on, three pairs of shoes on the mat. Sergeant Major toddler bellows, “Now, Mummy!”  and it’s big sister to the rescue (Vest and pants already – good girl!) with silly faces, Teddy dance. Soar downstairs, post stubby legs into highchair.

Porridge spoon, percussion spoon, conducting spoon; toasty soldiers, toasty triangles, great big Mummy toast. Coats on (“Sleeves gone to Scotland, Mummy!”), strap in, brake off, big push and they’re off! Blast of autumn, scudding clouds, worried face asks, “Did we beat that clock, Mummy?” Mummy shakes her half-dry hair and laughs. “Sausage, we smashed it!”

M J Lewis©2015

To misquote a phrase, cats have owners, toddlers have staff. With my son turning twenty, this is for me a piece of historical fiction. To anyone for whom it is contemporary fiction I will say it’s exhausting, but it doesn’t last forever. Also, these quiet autumn mornings, I’ve realised that, whereas I used to think I was helping my children get ready in the morning, they were actually the ones helping me.

For a merry round of 100-word Friday fiction please try this link, on any day, including indeed Friday. Congratulations are due to Rochelle on leaving behind a job and taking up a vocation. All the best Rochelle! Thanks also to Ted Strutz for the photo.

The Water of Life

tap

The Water of Life

After the big people turned yellow and stiff, Ralph made me the cloud singer. Little Joey is the best tree scurrier; Ralph’s gift is trapping and slitting.

Joey said the gibbering visitor might be Jesus, but everyone knows Jesus lives in the clouds. So Ralph jumped him and strung him up, still twitching. The forest will be happy now – tuneful and green and full of berries and eggs; maybe a squealing piglet.

I sang with all my heart and Jesus sent us a heavenly hallelujah soaking of rain to fill the tank and show Ralph did right.

M J Lewis ©2015

Time again for Friday Fiction, with a photo prompt from Madison Woods. For more stories click on this link. Thanks to our gracious host Rochelle and to all Fictioneers who come visiting. (A bit of a dark place this week, even in the sunshine!)