“Sound of a human”

 

The shrill musical alarm interrupts the silence

Heralding the start to another cycle of greyness

Bones squeak under the scruffy patterned quilt

As wasting muscles disembark from the bed

Leftover TV dinners strewn across the kitchen bench

Await the weekly cleaning lady, my only visitor

 

Today is Tuesday- cleaning day, so I proceed to the shower

Washed and dressed I await my guest with a bowl of almost mouldy cereal

Of course I wouldn’t admit I am waiting

Waiting for a smile, a ‘hello’ and a ‘goodbye’.

Joseph, my love, chose heaven ten years ago

My children interstate, overseas, outstanding

 

The leaves from the oak crunch under the car’s tyres

Footsteps approach soon after, black work shoes I know

I let the doorbell ring and slowly walk to the door

The door is flung open to ‘Good morning, Mrs Joseph!’

I gruffly mumble a greeting, hiding my smile

I settle into the beautiful sound of a human in my house

 

Who am I, Whose am I, Who is mine

Questions too painful for real life

Octogenarian, widow, mother, sack of bones?

Belongings are taken care of, so safe to say nobody’s

It’s this house and me, we belong to each other

Silence without peace, time without meaning, possessions

 

What do I wait for and what awaits me, mornings and nights

Everything lies in the past; joys, sorrows, dreams and hopes

Ahead it’s a long and clear stretch of nothingness over arid land

The only interruptions are people on walks and children on bikes

Going past my house as I live vicariously from the kitchen window

And then there are Tuesdays of course, ah the best days!

 

All the achievements, pride, connection, beauty of my youth

How quickly that bubble did burst, give me a minute more, slow down

But bang, gone, like it never ever did happen, wait was it even true?

The anger, the bitterness, the strife, the jealousy, the disagreements

remorse, heartbreak, forgiveness, reconciliation, I miss them all

Feelings and experiences reserved for those who have, and hold, and are held

 

A strange noise barges into my reverie, the phone is ringing, an alien sound

A lady’s voice, happy voice, tells me she is from the parish office

‘Would you like weekly Communion brought to you by one of our Ministers’?

The words ‘weekly’ and ‘Communion’ start doing somersaults in my heart

This is too much to digest, I swallow shock, joy and tears and say, ‘Yes please’.

Peace, dignity, love, hope flood in, in anticipation of the one who brings the One.

I get up to clean.