Rain spits at the closed window
dripping with condensation
and I’m listening a play on the radio,
following in Nell’s footsteps.
The iron steams. Clothes, rescued
from the line when the first cloud
cracked, are scented with raindrops,
creased and pleading to be smooth.
Pressing fabric between iron and board,
I breathe in warm memories, slip
down the years into a laundry-scented embrace,
catch a clear reflection of her face,
the woman who taught me
how to iron away a rainy day.
Kim M. Russell, 3rd January 2021
Rosemary tells us that she’s been reading a variety of things, but more than anything she’s been immersing herself in the Romance genre – and she has turned into her mother! She says that, when she was growing up, she was determined not to be like her or live her kind of life, but ‘What you resist, you become’.
Rosemary invites us to write about turning into one of our parents or resisting such a fate.
I’ve reworked an old poem from 2016, not about one of my parents, but about the woman who brought me up until I was seven years old – my grandmother, Nell.