Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
What I had forgotten was that the cleaner was coming today. Oh no! My house was a mess. I hadn’t tidied for two weeks because my current creative project was all-consuming. In my mind, I had two choices. Either, I spend the next hour madly running around the house organising everything, or just accept that the house was in a state of chaos and, perhaps, just ask him to clean the bathrooms and windows. I decided the latter.
Despite this, I found myself motivated to start a little tidying. And then I saw it. The closed door to the room I never entered. A sudden melancholy overwhelmed me as I fought the urge to walk away. My daughter Cathie. This had been her room and I hadn’t even opened the door for … I couldn’t remember how long. I saw her rosy red cheeks glowing in compliment with the bright red hat she donned on winter days. What an angel she was; smiling so sweetly whilst holding a large icy snowball in her hand. A moment later I was back, facing the stony white door that I had almost forgotten existed.
The Japanese have a saying that when something’s suffered damage and has needed to repair then it becomes more beautiful. Clearly I am still needing some repair, as I had repressed the memory of her. How could I have repressed the memory of her? She was my daughter. My life. A part of my spirit and I lost a part of me when I lost her. The only way I was able to cope was to forget about her.
Shame and grief filled my body simultaneously as I stood at the threshold to her room; still not able to, or willing to, open the door.
Around the corner was another place I feared to tread. Another door I feared to open. Frozen. I stood for a long time, until the door rang.
I was in no state to entertain visitors. Then I remembered, it was just Michael. The cleaner.
Happy for the distraction I walked to the front door and let him in.
He immediately noticed my distressed state and within moments had lead me into the kitchen and was making me a cup of tea. Michael had been visiting my home for many years now and he almost felt like family. He sat me down, boiled the kettle – not uttering a single word, simply sitting with me and sharing this melancholic space with me. It wasn’t long before tears welled up in my eyes.
It was brilliant! A place. A man. In my kitchen. Sitting. Something I had needed for a long while. No words needed to be said. Just a simple unvoiced acknowledgement of my sadness, and a companion to share it with. It was so cathartic!
Suddenly, Michael clenched his chest and his face went bright red as if he were struggling for breath. Oh my fucken god! He was having a heart attack or something. I froze once more. All I could do was think, not again.
Then I saw Elise finish that snowball toss and laugh and laugh and laugh. Crash! One hit my chest. Smash! Then my head. I fell to the ground laughing, only to see Michael clutching his chest whilst he fought for breath once more as I looked up.
I called triple zero and emergency services arrived within 5 minutes. In that time, whatever happened to Michael had subsided and he was breathing easily again. And I had seen my baby and my husband again.
Time to begin.