Coffee at 3pm
Slowly heading back to reality.
I had a sleepless, almost, night; many thoughts swirling through the darkness. One of them was “How fast do souls fly?”
Now you may think that is an odd thought, but let me explain.
Many years ago, I was sitting in my father’s taxi (I drove for him nights and weekends) when I had a vivid memory of my Aunt Hazel. She wasn’t really an aunt, she was my Godmother. Aunt Hazel was the antithesis of my prim and proper mother; a farmer’s wife.
Kids didn’t pee, they piddled, babies didn’t poo, they shit their nappies, and the dogs weren’t playing in the yard they were f******* (I’m sure that permanently curled my mother’s hair).
But out of the blue, I had strong recollections of this grand irreverent lady. It happened that I was stopped on the suburban taxi stand nearest her house, and the hour was the hour in which she collapsed and died.
Did she pass by to say farewell?
Reflecting on events last night. I was watching the football game on TV and during the second half, the power flickered three times, the last flicker was strong enough to trip my transformer and I needed to reset the PC. It also burnt out the bulb in my bedroom. Nothing unusual, we often have blackouts. I went to the shop to buy a new bulb, and mentioned that the power surging had blown my bulb; but I was informed there wasn’t a power surge, which was repeated by another neighbour, and again in the bar.
It was moments after the football game that my brother rang to inform me that my mother had passed away two hours earlier.
Had my mother passed by to say farewell?
Uncanny, but I thought that I would share this with you. The first time with Aunt Hazel, was a single incident, but twice is becoming more than a coincidence.
Good bye Mum