Sunday, 4 March 2012

I'm Hiding, I'm Hiding

I have a late night shower which I should have taken earlier, except that I was watching the pilot episode of the No 1 Ladies' Detective Agency on Youtube. After watching it, I slide on down to where my little dog is resting in his bed, and I stroke him and croon over him and tell him I love him. Arnold closes his eyes and just enjoys the attention.

Then I go off for my shower.

When I return, I see him running into the room, taking his position on his bed and then closing his eyes. His body radiates peace, security and a deep content.

And suddenly I think of mothers everywhere and how miraculous it is, in this sad, sorry and frightening world, that they can convey that sense of security. Hearing them singing in the morning, disappearing into their voluminous hug that lasts forever, that tough, so tender.

I guess it's Mma Ramotswe who inspires such thoughts in me. In the book she is called "traditionally built". But I think of her more as comfortable-sized. A child, hugged or held by her would feel safe and loved.

And I wonder, how do we bring back that feeling, that carefree feeling, when you know that there is someone to catch you when you fall and no matter what happens, you know it's going to be OK.

I'm hiding, I'm hiding
And no one knows where;
For all they can see is my
Toes and my hair

And I just heard my father
Say to my mother -
"But, darling, he must be
Somewhere or other;

Have you looked in the inkwell?"
And Mother said, "Where?"
"In the INKWELL?" said Father. But
I was not there.

Then "Wait!" cried my mother —
"I think that I see
Him under the carpet." But
It was not me.

"Inside the mirror's
A pretty good place."
Said Father and looked, but saw
Only his face.

"We've hunted," sighed Mother,
"As hard as we could
And I am so afraid that we've
Lost him for good."

Then I laughed out aloud
And I wiggled my toes
And Father said —"Look, dear,
I wonder if those

Toes could be Benny's?
There are ten of them, see?"
And they WERE so surprised to find
Out it was me!

By Dorothy Keeley Aldis

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