Homecoming
I push open the so familiar door
step into the dimly lit hallway
that smells of childhood.
The sound of a radio from upstairs,
I follow it to the door to my parents bedroom which stands ajar.
I knock, feeling self-conscious, awkward.
"Who is it? Who's there?"
"It's me mum. . . ."
The words are a release,
I step into the room and
look at my mother.
She lies in the darkened room
with a towel over her head
and the smell of lavender around her.
"How are you feeling mum?"
"Your father's in the garage,
working on that car again."
"I would have visited sooner
but everything is so hectic these days."
"I know love, I know. Now make me a nice cup of tea then darling?"
It's the same routine as always.
The teacup's in the same place.
The banging from the garage.
I walk into the garden,
cup forgotten in my hand,
and stand by the door to the garage.
A long while later I notice the cup in my hands and walk back into the
kitchen to finish making the tea.