My mother always wanted to live near the water,” she said. “She said it’s the one thing that brings us all together. That I can have my toe in the ocean off the coast of Maine, and a girl my age can have her toe in the ocean off the coast of Africa, and we would be touching. On opposite sides of the world.
Polly was all too aware that much of her time on holiday would be spent doing the laundry and the cooking and the child-care and all the other chores that back in London would be shared with her cleaning lady. A holiday with Theo and the children represented two weeks of domestic and maternal drudgery.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad? No, that wasn’t it at all. Well, they did do that, perhaps, but they also allowed you to become the person, and the writer, that you had it in you to be.
What’s this one, Mum? There’s no return address, and there’s like, five stamps on it. Who’s it from?”
Leaning forward to get a closer look at the stamps, I didn’t notice the fleeting look of immense sadness pass over her face.
“Oh it’s nothing, darling.”
I raised my eyebrow at her. She sighed.
“An overseas friend. You wouldn’t know her.”
And before I could ask what ‘her’ name was, Mum had left the room.
My mother is my pastor
She teaches me the Bible
I love her as my mentor
She tells me to be humble!
My mother is my doctor
Caring for me when am ill
I will love her forever till
We are gone to our creator!