Waiting for the cherry on top

Indecisiveness imbalances me.

I’ve witnessed it in my mother

When she was sitting at the kitchen table

In isolation. I thought of her and all of her books.

That other world. And I knew that the decision had been

Made a long time ago, a million times in fact:

Should I stay or should I go?


That kitchen was an arena, a place of sincerity.

A clinical violence, a mess torn from the inside out.

Movement happened there. Waiting for something

Bigger. Awaiting the right time. The walls would shout:


The right moment presented itself more than once and would

Do so in the future, it is a familiar guest. Sitting there with my

Mother, in isolation, staring at the front door, she had walked out

A million times before, never with her body but with her mind.

monochrome photography of a woman
Photo by Samad Ismayilov on Pexels.com

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