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| French toast, bacon, strawberries, raspberries & maple syrup |
"Disobedience" was my absolutely favourite poem in When We Were Very Young. I remember reading it over and over again -- giggling through the last verse, my favourite: "(Now then, very softly)". It occurs to me that I may simply have, early on, identified an alarmingly errant streak in my meandering mother. And while perhaps I don't take quite such good care of her as Master Weatherby George Dupree (who could?), I do my best for a girl of only thirty(one!).
I have been my mother's very own stalker the last couple of days. I phoned and phoned, I even went round to her house -- but could she be found? Could she? She finally resurfaced -- oh so casually -- at half past ten this evening. Half past ten!
I bet she went down to the end of the town.
I did go down to the end of the town, though not of my own accord;
ReplyDeleteAnd you certainly do take great care of your mother--(I expect there is little reward...)