Stairs

The towel came soft and warm from the tumble dryer

she sat in her vest

her mouth full of cereal

the spoon heavy with more

watching her program

eyes wide and hungry

 

I draped the towel across her shoulders

she purred and cloaked it around her

instantly, magically warm

safe

“Did your Mam do this to you when you were small Dad?”

 

I am standing on the stairs

halfway up

I slip

tumble silently

arrive in my childhood

see my mother walking toward me

arms wide

a towel stretched between them

waiting for me

 

“She did, and maybe you can do the same for your children.”

she is silent

her mouth full of cereal

the spoon heavy with more

watching her program

eyes wide and hungry

 

she speaks again, her words clouded with munching

“But who will wrap a warm towel around you now Dad?”

I smile and kiss her cheek

it is enough

 

there are no more warm towels for me

but there are blackbirds

cobwebs twinkling in sun showers

the smell of coffee

Tom Waits in the morning

The Blue Nile in the evening

and her

it is more than enough