Mother’s Day

A monologue

I look at the time.
It’s six o’clock.
In the bathroom I realise that it was Mother’s Day.
Yesterday Debbie had promised to bring me breakfast in bed.
I brush my teeth and wash my hands.
I’m an early riser, but it is nice to roll in bed for just a little longer.
I listen to the birds flying around by my window.
They sing beautifully.
In between I hear “krakra”. Hm.
The young birds screech loudly.
Their mothers work hard fetching food for them.
This mother lying in bed is thirsty.
I glimpse at the clock.
Half past six.
Okay, it’s a bit early. Patience.
I turn around.
Mike is snoring.
In the early morning glimmer I see him move.
He breathes calm.
In no time it soars to loud snoring.
He moves his head and starts all over again.
I can’t believe that I’m here listening to birds and snoring.
I peep at the clock.
A quarter to seven.
I get up and I sneak out the door.
There is a basket of clothes waiting to be fold.
While folding I put the torn pieces aside.
Kevin’s clothes are a regular problem.
I sigh and sneak back to bed.
My eyes fell on the clock.
Ten past seven.
It’s still quiet. My throat is dry.
I close my eyes. Yes.
The picture is clear.
A childhood picture of brothers and sisters.
We’re playing hide and seek.
What a great time that was.
I see my mom now, but she is asleep.
We differ five hours to the Aruban time.
If I phone now I’ll scare the life out of her.
Let her sleep. I’ll ring her later.
A quarter to eight.
I want to sneak to my computer.
Just for a little while.
The voice in my head tells me to stay away.
Once behind my pc I forget the time.
I hear the door open and shut.
It is Mike.
Half past eight.
Mike has gone to play tennis. I listen. Quiet.
I switch on the light to save the early morning atmosphere.
I get needle, thread, scissors and the torn clothes.
My tongue feels like leather.
I repair the clothes and put them in the basket.
I lie down.
Nine o’clock.
I feel annoyed and pick up my book.
I open and close it
I switch on the television.
Oh my dear, I’m in church in my pyjamas.
Switch it off.
I call my sister and told her where I am.
I explain her that I was waiting for breakfast.
She couldn’t stop laughing.
I hang up.
Half past nine.
Okay, that’s it.
I jump out of bed and fly down the stairs.
In the kitchen I full a cup of hot water, tea in it and wait.
Three minutes later I sip my tea.
By the time my cup is empty my annoyance is gone.
Mother’s Day with breakfast in bed?
Forget it.
Maybe there is more in a lovely dinner.