children

Their World

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Stepping out on her porch in the garden

Drawn by the laughter and cheer

She listened and walked a bit further

Stepping close to the fence, not too near

A stick broke beneath her, she panicked

It cracked like a whip in the air

She held onto the fence, hardly breathing

Didn’t want them to know she was there.

 

A family were seated together

Enjoying the afternoon sun

Their glasses were raised to each other

A birthday or some sort of fun

They laughed and enjoyed one another

So easy and joyful and gay

In a world of their own little bubble

Each one with so much to say

 

Back in her own little parlour

So empty and quiet these years

She thought of her sons and her daughter

Farewells and so many tears

Their phone calls and letters would cheer her

Bring news of the lives that they had

How happy she was they were thriving

They’d never be told she was sad

Daughters

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I don’t remember the tears or sleepless nights

I don’t remember the tiredness

I see fleeting moments of smiling faces

Pretty dresses, ‘what have you done’ thoughts

The years passed so quickly

 

I remember their first trips abroad

I planted a rose called “Patience”

On all their journey’s, I prayed

Saw photos of sun on their faces

Love in their hearts

 

Christmas was our time, our joy

A bonus each year they came home

New Year was theirs, with their friends

They were with me wherever they were

I travel with them in my mind

 

Our numbers are bigger and smaller

A generation apart but together

Time for their own children now

Their loves, their hopes and their dreams

Still my best work, my two daughters.

The Spirit of Christmas

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Monday 3pm

– Katie, give me your coat and I’ll make us some lunch

– I have to do my homework first

– Not till you’ve had something to eat

Katie sat down at the table, her school backpack at her feet.  Her mother joined her with a cup of tea, and a plate of sandwiches for them to share.

– That’s a good girl, eat a sandwich and I’ll get you some milk.

– We’re doing a Christmas play mum.

– That’s lovely Katie, who are you going to be

– I’m the star.  You have to make my outfit.

– A star!  That’s wonderful.  You’ll make a great star

Monica filled Katie’s glass with milk.

– Caroline’s going to be Mary.  It’s not fair!

– Probably because of her long hair Katie

– No its not.  She always wants to be teacher’s pet

– Your teacher loves you too Katie

– I’m only a star.  Standing at the back

– Do you have to sing anything, Katie

– We all sing

– When have you to practice

– We’ve already started.  I told you

– Oh, never mind, finish your milk

Tuesday 3pm

Katie’s mother went to the fridge.   She topped up the half empty glass. Then she settled back at the table.

– Caroline is out sick

– Ah, poor Caroline.  What’s the matter with her?

– Just sick.  I don’t care

– Now Katie, you shouldn’t say that

– Well I don’t care.  Now she can’t be Mary

– What’s the matter with Caroline anyway

– She’s just sick.  She took one of my sandwiches yesterday

– You didn’t have sandwiches Katie, you had crackers

– Well, I found one, in my bag.

– And she ate it?  Katie, it was probably stale.

-I don’t think so.  She said ‘thank you’

– Anyway, it means I can be Mary now.

 

 

Josephine Nolan

 

 

Chips

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Chips, hot, soft, crisp edges

Reminder of Brighton Beach when we were teenagers

Sunny, windy, cold and stony

Sunbathing on the beach in our clothes

Refreshed back on the coach after fish and chips

Now reminds me of Bray Beach in Wicklow

Two daughters, five grandchildren

Getting late, everyone hungry

Queue up for bags of chips

Mouth-watering aroma wafting from the Take-a-Way

Salt and vinegar, almost drooling

Chips so hot the children have to blow on them

Shrieks when young William drops his on the sand

Minor disaster

Squalls of seagulls swooping down on the fallen chips

To the roars of delight from the children

As the birds duck and dive for the feast left behind

Josephine Nolan

Silent Footsteps

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Her soft blond hair had been sleeked back into a long plait that reached to her waist.  Her blue taffeta dress rustled as she quietly crept up the wooden stairs, creaking beneath her feet.  She held her breath.  She didn’t want to be seen tiptoeing into her grandmother’s room.

The blinds were drawn but the morning sunshine escaped through the bottom of the bay window, casting shadows around the room.  The big bed was covered with a colourful silk eiderdown.

She crossed the room to the dressing table, and touched the perfume bottle, and the soft yellow attachment.  It felt like sponge.  She couldn’t resist squeezing it and a soft spray of lavender evaporated into the air.  She picked up the gold mirror on the shiny surface to see her reflection and gently lifted the brush to her hair.  Opening the top drawer of the dressing table, she was disappointed it was empty, but a familiar smell met her nostrils, like mothballs, but something else.  She could smell her grandmother’s embrace again, and feel her tenderness.

A Day in the Life – Lizzie

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Lizzie had three children, two boys aged seven and six and a three year old daughter.  Her husband worked in a grocery shop in Main Street owned by his brother.  It was the early 50’s and things were tight.  They thought themselves lucky that they had a roof over their head and food on the table. Lizzie was very careful with her husband’s small wages.  They lived in a two bedroom house. The children slept in the bigger bedroom.  The house had an outside toilet, which was not unusual those days. Once a week a tin bath, kept in the shed, was brought in to the kitchen to give the children a good scrub and wash their hair.  They were like new pins every Saturday night as they sat around the fire. Lizzie and Andrew often looked at each other and smiled as they watched their shiny little heads and smiling faces.  They thought they were truly blessed.

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