HOLD ON

‘Sing to me, Mama. Sing to me, please. I can’t fall asleep until you sing to me.’ I turn over towards the window. The moon is looking down on me. My teary eyes blur it away. I turn back and stare at the wall. The wall stares back at me. The house is so empty. And then I hear it. Daddy has fallen asleep at last. His snore is soft, not loud enough for him to wake himself. When I listen closely it’s like a hum, as if he were singing with Mama.

‘Go away, go away,’ my little brother Jerry cries. I hurry to him so he won’t wake Daddy, but Daddy gets there first. He picks Jerry up and holds him close. ‘Go to bed, Charlotte. I’ll stay here with Jerry.’ This happens a lot. There is no arguing with Daddy. As I leave, he is already nestled in bed with my brother. I go to my room, look for the moon and it is gone. Did clouds swallow it or did it simply want to get away from this sad house? My mother sings to me again, about love and happy times. The moon no longer matters. It is gone for a while but Mama is gone forever.

Slowly sleep comes–so does morning. Dddy is stirring down in the kitchen. Jerry is whining for him to make chocolate chip pancakes like Mama used to make. Daddy tells him again he doesn’t know how and besides, he has to go to work. Hilda, our housekeeper knocks at the door. Jerry runs to her, grabs her hand and pulls her towards the kitchen. ‘Make chocolate chip pancakes for me, Bessie!’ ‘Not today, Little One. I have to do the laundry. How about scrambled eggs?’ Jerry agrees with a promise that he will get them Friday. Daddy leaves, I go to school and Jerry will be on Bessie’s tail.

There is a lady I see every day at the bus stop after mine. She looks very much like my mother and I stare at her until her son gets aboard and she walks away. Some days it’s unbearable and I sit on the other side of the bus. Other days I wait impatiently for her to bring her son, hug him, blow him a kiss and fade away.

Months have passed, Jerry now goes to nursery school. Bessie has learned how to make delicious chocolate chip pancakes. Daddy sleeps better, goes to work every morning. The lady who looks like my mother no longer comes to the bus.

I still lie awake, imagining my mother is singing to me. Her voice keeps getting softer and softer, more distant nightly and the moon continues to peep in at me.