I don't know if it's just me but when I try to recall my mother's voice I fail. I remember Lily Loughran's and Maisie Taylor's, our neighbours, all now passed on to heavenly pastures, but not hers.
Celestial Silence
I can’t
remember the sound of her voice
except sometimes
when I click my tongue at the cat
or talk dog
speak to the dog.
Then I recall
the same inane babble coming from her
as she stooped
over Nicky, our half breed wire haired fox terrier,
the one she
called after The Thin Man.
The series ran for most of my fifties childhood
as did her infatuation with Nick Charles.
My father, who
mostly read Westerns and Thrillers,
quoting Shakespeare,
probably Falstaff, used to say,
”Never
trust a thin man.”
And though we mocked all her daft foibles
her Friday
night teenage antics for a TV star
she was the
celestial body by which we navigated,
determined our
latitude, found our true North-
Yet I remember all of their voices but hers.
Beautiful.
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