The sound of the same school bell

struck a happier note at school’s end.

A lightness despite the heavy school load

matched that spring in each step home.

I truly intended to go home,

throw the satchel in the corner,

But the heavy monsoon had left

a water logged meadow in its wake.

With mud-streaked face and damp hair,

knee-deep in muck i plunged.

Stained clothes, unopened umbrella.

the easy path was not mine to take.

One by one I tore them

pages

from homework book.

To help out drowning creatures,

I made rescue boats.

With lighter load and carefree heart,

I headed home to mother.

Her false scolding led to a bath,

a warm porridge, and a clean-up.

Undeterred, I did it again.

and again…

…until the butterfly

flitted to sit

on another childhood.

A familiar indulgence came naturally

despite mock reproach.

While I understood,

I never let her see me

as the one

with the damp ponytail

askew,

in mud-streaked clothes

and squelchy boots.

I saw me in her

she, my mother in me.

And there it was, the carefree

and the care in free.

That concern in the free

only my mother once knew

had squarely landed upon me.

©IK 2020

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