I wake up early

Woken early for so many years

I do it now of my own volition

Slowly, into the silence of the morning


Move downstairs

Feed the dogs, let them out

Clear the dishes, wind the clock,

Rotate the washing,

Some to air on the cooker and the new hung up to dry.

The remnants of the day before.


A glass of water and a sit.

“Who am I today?”

Consult the list.

Wander through the bottom of the house,

My patrolling meditation

Like a recalibration cycle, joining the dots of my yesterday and today

Until I know where I am again.


Move upstairs

Teeth, shower

The noises of the dishwasher, washing machine

Sometimes the printer

The day has started

The noises of the day in my ears,

Fresh water running down my back.


Todays’ noises and yesterdays’ noises mingle,

The wakening of another time

Coming into my consciousness.

Riddling the ashes of the night before.

Paper being torn and scrunched

The bucket and the grate

Crackling of the first wood and then the movement.


I hear her move

Fully awake

Not much more time now, in my warm place.

Dishes. More metal.

Spoons, knives, the scrape of the kettle on the hob.

More footsteps.

Almost time… turn over.

“Breakfast” she calls from the bottom stair.

More steps, ascending steps.

She moves from room to room

Closer to me,

The noises of my Mother.


Stretch, dress.

“Fill the bed” as Mother would say.

I hear some stirring.

Stirring from today’s time,

A sigh, movement of a bed

Shifting weight.

Did they hear their own Mother noises, the children?

Do I fill them with safety, as she did me?

The preparation

Waking slowly to the sound of someone there.


I move towards the stirring.

The Golden Chain of the Mother.

“Cup of tea darling?”