Mother
One
"Where you aff tae?"
"Just away,"
"Away where?"
"Naewhere. I just need to get away..."
She takes the phone from her face, devouring the blue bend on the road. The life of this woman might seem simple; get up, feed the dog, wash the dishes, go to zumba class. But recently it has occurred to her how difficult it is to live a simple life. Her voice is quiet in the world - her every move and feeling is forgotten. Every day is a tragedy. And some days, this tragedy can become too great to bear. These are the days where she just has to get away.
"John, I really don't want tae live here any mare. Can't we move: I'd joost love tae go back tae Anderston, or Partick... this place is just... deed!"
"We're no movin', Pauline. That's final. Ye know fine well there's work to be done in this toon."
"But John, Susan and I were walkin' doon Dumbarton Road earlier. It wis sunny, and everybody was so lovely and chatty."
"It's sunny here as well, an' Glasgow's only twenty minutes away."
"I know, I know, but it's no the same. There wis so much happenin', and ye could talk tae anybody. But I can walk roon this place and pass ten mothers I know fae the weans at school, and not a single hello."
"And you think the solution is tae just leave? It's no a' aboot you, Pauline. We've been perfectly happy here for seventeen years."
"Aye right. I know it's no a' aboot me. My daughter's joost gave birth tae ma first grand-daughter and I don't want her gettin' brought up in this stupid wee place."
"Glasgow's no much better."
"Whit dae you know?! I grew in Anderston and I loved it. You grew up in Sighthill. That isny Glasgow. Och, am sick ae this place."
"We're no movin Pauline, and that's the end ae it. Stop bein' so selfish."
The sun hasn't long set and the place has gone a deep blue - a vague hint of yellow on the horizon. The road joins a vast motorway sans traffic. "This road is mine," she thought. And for a moment, she felt free. Independent: the seaweeds of life seemed to have let her ankles go.
But as she drifted along at ninety miles per hour, she had to accept that every inch she gained into the realms of freedom was paid for by her husband. No matter how hard she tries to ignore it, she knows she'll have to return.
Her mobile phone buzzes. A text from him. She takes her hands off the wheel to remove the battery, tosses the pieces into the back and regains control of the car: taking a slip road for Charing X – Anderston.
"Just away,"
"Away where?"
"Naewhere. I just need to get away..."
She takes the phone from her face, devouring the blue bend on the road. The life of this woman might seem simple; get up, feed the dog, wash the dishes, go to zumba class. But recently it has occurred to her how difficult it is to live a simple life. Her voice is quiet in the world - her every move and feeling is forgotten. Every day is a tragedy. And some days, this tragedy can become too great to bear. These are the days where she just has to get away.
"John, I really don't want tae live here any mare. Can't we move: I'd joost love tae go back tae Anderston, or Partick... this place is just... deed!"
"We're no movin', Pauline. That's final. Ye know fine well there's work to be done in this toon."
"But John, Susan and I were walkin' doon Dumbarton Road earlier. It wis sunny, and everybody was so lovely and chatty."
"It's sunny here as well, an' Glasgow's only twenty minutes away."
"I know, I know, but it's no the same. There wis so much happenin', and ye could talk tae anybody. But I can walk roon this place and pass ten mothers I know fae the weans at school, and not a single hello."
"And you think the solution is tae just leave? It's no a' aboot you, Pauline. We've been perfectly happy here for seventeen years."
"Aye right. I know it's no a' aboot me. My daughter's joost gave birth tae ma first grand-daughter and I don't want her gettin' brought up in this stupid wee place."
"Glasgow's no much better."
"Whit dae you know?! I grew in Anderston and I loved it. You grew up in Sighthill. That isny Glasgow. Och, am sick ae this place."
"We're no movin Pauline, and that's the end ae it. Stop bein' so selfish."
The sun hasn't long set and the place has gone a deep blue - a vague hint of yellow on the horizon. The road joins a vast motorway sans traffic. "This road is mine," she thought. And for a moment, she felt free. Independent: the seaweeds of life seemed to have let her ankles go.
But as she drifted along at ninety miles per hour, she had to accept that every inch she gained into the realms of freedom was paid for by her husband. No matter how hard she tries to ignore it, she knows she'll have to return.
Her mobile phone buzzes. A text from him. She takes her hands off the wheel to remove the battery, tosses the pieces into the back and regains control of the car: taking a slip road for Charing X – Anderston.