Look Again

Somewhere between the death of my youngest son and living like I do now – that’s when it started I think. I remember walking into the waiting room at the doctors. I took a seat and picked up a magazine. Home Living. Around me people were coughing, sickly, scratching, sneezing, slumped over in their seats. I wanted to block it all out. I opened the the magazine and the first page I flicked to captured my attention. It was a beautiful photograph, a photograph of a bathroom. That sky blue wall with light pouring in through the blinds looked so perfect. There were two children’s toothbrushes alongside their parents in a pink cup. The tap is running as though there were someone just out of sight, perhaps brushing their teeth right at that moment.
“Turn that tap off!” I would have scolded. Wasting water like that was unnecessary.
I went over to the airing cupboard to grab another towel as there was no towel in the towel ring. It was still warm. I checked the children were still getting ready for school and not playing games or still in bed. I then headed to the kitchen to make breakfast.
My husband stood at the counter, he was making lunch for everybody. There were slices of cucumber, tomatoes, cheese, salad leaves scattered across the counter.
“Aren’t you sweet” I purred as I went to give him a squeeze. He turned and smiled, kissing my head. I pulled away and reached into the dishwasher, picking two pink bowls out. I placed them carefully on to the table, side by side. I wouldn’t do everything for them. I left a choice of cereals, some milk and a selection of juices and fruit. They could help themselves.
I heard doors slamming upstairs and knew they would storm down stairs like a heard of elephants charging in fright.
“Slow down!” I called. “You’ll have an accident one of these days!”

Look Again

They took no notice as they skidded into the kitchen, blonde hair flying everywhere.
I heard coughing and as I looked around I saw an old woman being helped to her feet by a younger man.
“Misses Mead to Room 9 for Doctor Phillips. Misses Mead to Room 9” The receptionist called.