Call me mad, but I swear there was a presence in the house when my son was a baby, 12 years ago. The jug kept switching itself off at the wall. Short term memory loss from chronic sleep deficit? (I'm an awful insomniac, need a mallet to keep me asleep for longer than an hour, function on five or six hours of very broken sleep). Who knows, but it was the inspiration for this poem.
FYI, XXXXX is my real name - want to maintain anonymity for now.
Bedtime for babes. It’s a quarter to nine.
His eyelids are heavy. Now, that’s a good sign.
With a stretch and a yawn, Lexy settles for the night
Clutching Teddy’s ear with all of his might.
I gaze at his wise little face in repose.
I ponder his future, my anxiety grows.
What will the world be like, twenty years hence?
Will leaders and presidents finally make sense?
Will we be on the brink of a nuclear war?
Will the enemy come to break down the door?
Will his family be safe? Will his children be free?
I wonder what Lexy’s profession will be.
Poet, priest, plumber or learned physician?
Movie-star, scientist, famous magician?
Engineer, fireman, skilled steeple-chaser?
Nobel Prize winner or brave downhill racer?
Then, a little voice whispers, “Live in the now!
To quote young Bart Simpson: ‘Don’t have a cow!’
The past is behind you, tomorrow’s unborn.
Loosen up, girl, when you’re dead, you can mourn!”
Breathless, I look to the foot of the bed
Where stands an ethereal, yet feisty, redhead.
I know her from yellowing snapshots I’ve seen
In family albums. What can this mean?
Shivers course up and down my spine.
My face is tingling with energy, sublime.
Yet, such a sense of peace I feel
Despite this atmosphere, surreal.
“My Lord, Grandma Mona, is that really you?”
I timidly venture. “Can it be true?
You died years ago. We never met at all
before I wed Tony and became XXXXX”
She smiles and nods in affirmation,
Then touches my face. What an eerie sensation!
“We’re watching your family from Heaven above.
Great-grandfather Alex sends you his love.
He drinks and plays cards with John Wayne every night.
On weekends, he teaches Marciano to fight.
‘Tween Marilyn and Harlow, he simply can’t choose.
The Stooges and Chaplin keep him amused.”
She grins and continues, “Uncle Terry is well.
At Bacchus’ parties, he wreaks merry hell.
He conjures up hurricanes, earthquakes and floods.
He loves to pick fights with those soused demigods!”
She places a finger on Lexy’s right cheek.
He stirs for a moment, then takes a small peek.
A minute to midnight! The mystery grows!
Upon his white pillow, she lays a red rose.
“‘Defender of men’ is my young Alexander.
You couldn’t have wished for a name any grander.
Yet Daddy insists you’re a 'wee salamander'.
He’s clearly possessed of rare wit and candour.
You entered this world a year ago today
On a cold Wednesday night - the 15th of May,
Weighing six pound fifteen, born at six forty-one
To proud Mum and Dad. What a fine, strapping son!
‘It’s a boy! It’s a boy!’ everyone yelled.
To your poor, tired mother, they said, ‘You did well!’
Although you were born two weeks premature,
Your soul is perfection, it’s loving and pure.”
Suddenly, she glances up to the sky,
“My dear, I must leave you, I really must fly.
Please, go see a movie once in a while!
Put on some make-up, remember to smile!
“Tell man of mine, Clive, to get on with his life
And younger son, Ross, to stay out of strife
And get that boy, Tony, to take you out dancing.
You surely do look like you need some romancing!
“Sweet Grandson, be whatever you like,
Only stay out of debt and never hitch-hike!
Were I a white witch, I’d grant these wishes three:
Happiness, Health and Prosperity.”
Mona smiles, then fades completely from view.
Her aura remains - a pale shimmering blue.
How tranquil I feel, but incredibly tired
And emotionally drained from all that’s transpired.
Having slept and snored through most of the night,
Tony enters the room and gives me a fright:
“Come and have breakfast, oh love of my life.
Would you like cereal, my lady, my wife?”
I start to tell of the strange visitation.
“You must’ve been dreaming,” is his negative summation.
“I’ll make us some coffee and boil up the jug.
Go feed the baby. I can’t find my mug!”
“It’s in Lexy’s room, right there on the floor.
There!” I point. “Down by the door!”
As Lex guzzles formula with great appetite,
Sadly, I wonder could Tony be right?
“What’s all this mess?” I hear Tony’s voice boom.
“Why are there flowers all over this room?
I’ve never seen rose petals quite so red.
Did you just rob a florist? Are you sick in the head?”
I sigh in relief. I’m not going mad.
She really was here. I truly am glad!
He enters the kitchen and continues to call:
“And why have you switched the jug off at the wall?”
I reply, “It was boiling a minute ago.
I didn’t go near it. I swear this is so.”
He snaps, “Well, it didn’t switch off by itself!
I suppose we’ve been tricked by a goblin or elf!
“Next, you’ll claim Lexy is Merlin reborn;
That you’re Morgan Le Faye on this bright, autumn morn!
Snap out of it, chook, or soon you’ll see,
They’ll lock you up and throw away the key.”
Then, Mona appears in a flash of white light.
She points to her son and commands, “Don’t you fight!”
Tony is rendered completely aphasic.
He gapes like a fish. It is truly amazing!
I smile as I cuddle my Buddha-like son.
“Alexander, how does it feel to be one?
At least it’s never boring. That’s guaranteed
As long as we’re blessed by our Guardians Three!”
Sadly, three more family members have gone to Heaven since this poem was written, including my soulmate - my beautiful, wonderful Father. Love you, miss you, thank you.
