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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