WHEN NO ONE IS LOOKING

Half of summer was naked, and all of her was uncomplicated.

When July and August were busy with other things, he stopped wearing nappies,

just like that. Now I find that there is something about

minimal underwear that moves me immeasurably.

I buy them in organic cotton, silk and wool as if our lives

hung on delicate and unbleached thread.   

When no one is looking I untack the tickets in the back

with my sharp little embroidery scissors. The one that looks

like a golden bird and that never sees any action other than the

setting free of labels. When my sisters and I were growing up, my

mamma rid every garment of every tag. That or she turned

pieces inside out. Now I find the oddest things are handed down thru

the generations. Like the matter of nothing being allowed to itch.

When no one is looking, we talk about his days.

There are now moments that are only his and how they seem to him.

Jimmy wasn't at the nursing home today. Where has he gone..? 

Once a week, his nursery group walks to the nursing home on the same street.

The youngest and the oldest play the piano together and tell each other stories.

They cut and create hero masks from vibrant paper. Cassius's hero and

favourite is Jimmy since first they met. We look at each other across

the table, we that are supposed to be the grownups.

Who kissed Jimmy goodbye..? is essentially what I'm thinking.

Cassius muses on, out loud.

  If I get really old, then I will die. 

(pause)

I don't like that part.

 That's when I hope my fear of death will not be a hand-me-down.

So I stay silent, and Christian is the one who tells, unbothered, his version

of what comes after you die. Tells about the Big Party in the Sky.

When no one is looking, that's what I'll be conquering,

the belief that that's where we are going. To the biggest party of all,

everlasting, together. Afterwards. This minute I'm mostly

trying to look brave, and I also try averting with looking a gulp of

red wine straight in the eye. But that's when they do see me. My family.

When no one is looking, I study my hands.

If Cassius asks about them, they are created by the sun,

when I read them to myself, they are age. There's no decoding of

those spots or of the space between them, but in his world {or is it in mine..?}

I want to stay being the Sun for a bit longer, rather than its spots.

I want to be the strong that holds his safe.
My flaws I can show him. But not of what is only skin deep.

When no one is looking, or at least not seeing, I dig my

fingernails deeply into the insides of my palms at the feeling of

not having a single soul listening quietly to the end of my sentences.

When no one is looking, tears from the feeling of failing

breaks away from me in the cold section of the grocery store

as Cassius refuses to come with me and instead squat stubbornly

looking at plastic toothbrushes that look like temperamental monsters.

I smooth the gloom away, fretted, with the back of my index fingers.

When no one is looking, we dance slowly in the kitchen,

the three of us in a sheltered embrace, Cassius resting on an arm each in

between us, faces held close, mumbling I love you in our own chorus.

When no one is looking, I stroke my own cheek.

'Yes, Mother. 

I can see that you are flawed. You have not hidden it.

That is your greatest gift to me.'

- Alice Walker

∞

no1 | linen 'bucket hat' from okounger

no2, 4 & 5 | natural necklace made from 'raw' matt amber

{i don't know if it's from constantly wearing that but over this summer

he was the only one without a single mosquito bite} - also okounger

no4 & 5, 6 & 7 | 'nikkou' trousers from illoura the label

no6, 7 & 8 | 'shell pillows' from tamar mogendorff