Scottish Review
SRanthology01-03-16
SRanthology01-03-16
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My Mother's Days<br />
Best of the <strong>Scottish</strong> <strong>Review</strong>: January–March 2016<br />
Gerard Rochford<br />
She hand-washed the bedding and all the clothes for eight,<br />
mangled out the water, dried them in the wind and cursed the rain,<br />
bought pegs from gypsies and a sprig of heather.<br />
In a wicker basket bigger than a cradle,<br />
she bore the laundry into the house,<br />
ironed with an iron heated on the range,<br />
put socks aside for darning on a wooden mushroom.<br />
She cooked, cleaned, did the shopping,<br />
acted in the village play,<br />
venial confession once a month,<br />
Mass and Benediction on a Sunday.<br />
Smoked Goldflake, read The Woman’s Journal,<br />
cared for an aunt, the dog, the cats, the chickens,<br />
and for me, sleeping in fresh, smooth sheets.<br />
When she died, at eighty-three, her tiny body<br />
was returned as ash to lie again with her husband.<br />
16 March 2016<br />
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