I stood on the street in front of work, jacketed people hurry home around me and I am standing, staring at my phone. What do I do?
The sky is darkening rapidly. I look back at the phone and text my mate Shakespeare. I run up the alleyway near work and pray the bus blasts through all the lights to get me home as fast as its rusty wheels can.
I run down the corridor and into my apartment, throwing my bag onto the table and I grab another, stuffing it with overnight clothes. I pat my wallet, phone and keys in my pocket as a count function that I have everything. Minutes later I’m driving up north.
I open the door and rush in. Beau comes up to the kitchen and sees me, he looks confused. ‘Dad, what are you … I didn’t know you were coming here’.
‘I’m not sweetheart, well, only for a minute’. Chick comes running over and hugs my leg. ‘Ma may not be well and I need to take her to the doctor tomorrow’.
‘Mummy told us,’ Beau responds looking at me as I try not to look panicked.
Dawn hands me her car keys as my car won’t make it up the hills easily. In minutes I’m back on the freeway. I’m silent and already anxiously biting my nails. My mind goes into overdrive of what if’s? I drive with stealth, and care, as I have two mini men to come home to.
Hours later I arrive in the blackest of nights, galaxies pulsing above so clearly. Dad comes to the front doors and hugs me, followed by Mum.
The next morning, sitting at the kitchen table, the phone rings. The three of us know it’s time. We will know right now. Her voice is strong, though taut. Child-like in uncertainty, determined in unknown. I grab a tea cup and fill it with water and watch her on the phone to her doctor.
She laid the phone down. Smiling she turns to Dad and I. Frauline has many more feisty years ahead of her again and I am relieved.
She may have taught me to live for today, because that’s all we have. And I have learnt to be there for when tomorrow comes.
