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
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.
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
Not much more time now, in my warm place.
Dishes. More metal.
Spoons, knives, the scrape of the kettle on the hob.
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.
“Fill the bed” as Mother would say.
I hear some stirring.
Stirring from today’s time,
A sigh, movement of a bed
Did they hear their own Mother noises, the children?
Do I fill them with safety, as she did me?
Waking slowly to the sound of someone there.
I move towards the stirring.
The Golden Chain of the Mother.
“Cup of tea darling?”