She likes me sittin’ beside her, readin’ my bible, reflectin’, rememberin’. She don’t even mind the goat leaping on the gravestones – sometimes I think she’d more respect for animals than people.
Ma was a proud woman, kept herself locked away inside, the softness buried deep behind a sharp tongue and a suspicious nature. Didn’t suffer fools gladly. And politicians not at all.
When we talked about the changes, she’d fold thin lips, flash those big brown eyes.
“Only thing gonna change round here son is the colour of them ridin’ the gravy train. And there won’t be seats for us all.”
An opportunity for another re-run, a topical one, but then when wasn’t this subject ever topical. I was living in South Africa when everything changed, back when the new democratic government was formed in the early nineties. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all Friday Fictioneers, old and new. And thank you to Rochelle for taking up the baton way back, and still running with it. 🙂