Gabrielle Gassin

I have a fairy godmother.

Her magic is revealed when I leave the house in a hurry,

When all of the things accumulate, and the time lapses too quickly, and there’s always a deadline looming expectantly nearer; the thin hands of a cheap clock an assault on my mind.

And the standards I once held rigid, identifying me

as

This and That, to myself and me alone

Are not only lowered, but have plummeted to the depths of the un-emptied bin.

Dishes in the sink from their breakfast, their clothes on the floor in the wrong room, beds as ruffled as their morning hair

Wet washing in the machine, its cry for release a harbinger of my inability to manage it all.

Dogs unkempt; a groom overdue

My coffee tepid – warm enough to drink, out of desperation

But not to enjoy

And the repeated reminders going out to the children

That I need their help to get us out of the house

Go un-adhered to,

And rightly so

Because why shouldn’t they be lost in play, oblivious to the grown up structures of start times

And neatly folded towels,

Breathe out slowly once on the road,

My resistance to the way things are

Has diminished, and I resolve to

Fix Everything Later.

Alas! the day slides too quickly by,

The strange world of minutes and seconds and hours framing the minutiae of a day, quadrants of time made achievable and pushing each of us ever forward,

Un-relenting and increasing in speed at the moments we desire least, when there are too many Important Jobs To Do, but no bridge to reach such a destination.

I have a fairy godmother.

Her magic wand is dexterous; functional

And only some will understand, the ways she aids my existence

So that my mental health remains intact

Is Invaluable

When I walk in from work and see

The sink is empty, and clean

Dishwasher unpacked, re-stacked

Benches wiped

Beds made, toys tidied

Bits and pieces collated, skilfully piled somewhere unobtrusive

But not pretentiously

And with no judgement.

Cushions fluffed and straightened, throw not thrown but tucked

Washing dry, folded and stacked, ready to be returned to its owners.

Often, I come home to toilets cleaned, floors mopped

And I wonder

How Long This Magic will last.

I have a fairy godmother

She does not expect a thing

She’s humble beyond belief,

Her fairy dust is golden

And it’s within these gratitude filled words

That I want to say

Thank you