Watch for a Sign

Daffodils raised their yellow trumpets all over the Yorkshire landscape to announce that longer days and better weather were on their way. However, with Mothering Sunday on the horizon, Carolyn was oblivious to their cheerful presence as if the cold and bleak, dark, dismal, gale-drenched winter continued to hold sway. She even still wore her winter coat though not her woolly hat and gloves more from being self-conscious than feeling warm enough as the winds came sharp and bitter sometimes even when the sun was shining.

Up early to get her daily walk in before work without even checking her Whatsapp or personal emails on her mobile, Carolyn tried to focus on her footsteps, breathing in and breathing out, attempted to appreciate everything she could see and hear. This was no use, though, because as soon as she saw a mother walking with a toddler, the familiar thoughts arose.

The last Mother’s Day, as it was more often called now, that she had spent with her mother was in March 1984. Literally, a different century. No internet in that bygone era, just typewriters and radios, cameras and telephones, fax machines and telegrams, televisions and fun trips to the cinema to watch films in a huge darkened room filled with other people without worrying that they might be breathing and laughing and perhaps coughing and sneezing and spreading a virus.

Several years on from lockdown, Carolyn still had not gone back to the Plaza Cinema despite being invited by various friends and colleagues. Sometimes she felt the world had shifted on its axis in 2020 and never gone back to its original orientation. Yet other people behaved as if the world was unchanged.

More importantly, though, how had she survived forty years without Louisa?

This meant that she had spent more time on the planet alone than with her mother, well, not counting the years of her marriage which she thought of as a disaster these days. Four decades without Louisa struck her as heartrendingly awful and extremely unfair.

Over the last week or two, whenever anyone mentioned plans for Mother’s Day, fretted about what gift to buy or complained about obligations to visit their Mum, Carolyn felt a mixture of envy and outrage. She wanted to shake them and shout in their faces that they must enjoy their mother’s company while they could and not waste the precious hours available.

A young man hefted a little kid to his shoulders, the child crowing at the expanded view from up high, clutching his father’s hair like the mane of a horse.

Father’s Day usually passed without much emotional fanfare. She missed Pitar, certainly, but since before she became a teenager, she had only seen Dad a couple of times a year due to his international business commitments. He didn’t feel so much a part of her life and seldom understood her like Louise did. Her mother’s unexpected departure, in contrast, left a gaping void where love and friendship, laughter and their quirky conversations used to be, only a grave left to tend, nothing more.

Forty years. Other losses too, of course, but none so devastating as this one. The divorce that killed her marriage as well as her hopes of having children because she didn’t feel strong enough to risk having her heart broken again. At least her mother had not been around to witness everything falling apart, though Louisa would have been instrumental in helping to pick up the pieces and make a fresh start.

Sisters. That’s what they had been once Carolyn started her first job, not so much mother and daughter. Two peas in one pod, they worked for the same family-owned chain of camera shops, had similar tastes in restaurants and what to see at the cinema, and enjoyed the same books as if they were their own quite exclusive reading circle. Dad had never been interested in fiction or poetry, but then he was highly motivated and had built up his own business from the basement up.

Admittedly, her relationship with her mother had been too close. Maybe. When Carolyn was dating Josh, he sometimes seemed jealous of their closeness. Even after they got married, he never had finished even one of Carolyn’s sentences, not recommended a book she might like, and failed to understand her sense of humour like Louisa always had. A joke that had to be explained was no longer funny.

Bereft. She seized on the word as that was exactly what she felt. Nothing so sad as a motherless child, even one supposedly all grown up, an adult in her own right.

At this point, she reached the spot where she always turned around to walk back. She tried to occupy her mind with what had gone on at work this week, but before she had even managed to retrace a few steps, the remorseless thoughts persisted onwards.

Get a cat. So many well-meaning people had offered advice after her bereavement and again after the tumultuous divorce though she had kept both life-changing events as private as she possibly could. Get a dog. For God’s sake at least get yourself a budgie, someone to come home to after work.

But although she had really wanted to have children, she didn’t want to be responsible for another living creature now. And the houseplants that came to her, unasked for, had never thrived except for the tiny sprig of a jade plant which grew and grew until it became a little jade tree, her prize possession. She took her time selecting the perfect new home for it when she had to re-pot it again last year. The jade had grown to be two feet tall and two and a half feet wide.

Then there was the unsolicited advice of the other sort. Take up yoga classes or join a walking group. Discover a new hobby and go to classes to meet like-minded people. Get out there on the dating scene—life’s too short to spend alone. Volunteer for a charity. Or get some counselling to help you cope.

Carolyn only gave recommendations if she was asked, so it perplexed her why others reacted like they were professional problem solvers whom she had not consulted. Many of them barely knew her, colleagues particularly, and followed up on their advice by asking how she liked the yoga or if she was enjoying her new hobby, what was it again? More and more, she wished she could wear a t-shirt which proclaimed: Don’t Tell Me What to Do, Just Sort Your Own Life Out.

It wasn’t like she gave chapter and verse about her troubles like one of her colleagues did. They made assumptions because they knew she had lost her mother to the Grim Reaper and then had her husband stolen by the Other Woman.

To be honest, she was coping as well as she could and that was good enough. People with much more serious concerns needed the counselling more than she did. Besides the NHS was more stretched since 2020 than it had ever been before.

So what did she care if any day was much like any other? The only difference being work days and the weekend. Working kept her so busy that she didn’t have time to mull over her circumstances. Most Saturdays and Sundays passed without much to complain about.

She tended to take longer walks or visit museums, historical sites, art galleries, always choosing times when they would not be thronged, of course, as she still worried about catching the Corona virus or anything else floating around the local population. A friend of hers had got a bad case of whooping cough which she thought was a Victorian disease, not something for the twenty first century.

The nights, though, that was her main problem. She didn’t like sleep because sometimes it was so unobtainable and other times gave her odd, exhausting nightmares. Trying to get away from someone at a crowded train station. Climbing a never-ending stairwell being followed by a figure not ever quite in her sight when she looked over her shoulder. Walking along a deserted beach with the persistent feeling of not being alone.

The only friend she had confided in, at a very low point indeed, suggested seeing the doctor to get some sleepers, but she hated the idea of a medicated dormancy during the night. What if there was a fire or her asthmatic neighbour needed help in an emergency?

This had happened once before and, as they both lived alone, she understood the widow’s situation. She also didn’t want the temptation of a supposedly easy exit to be available in case she got really down. That’s why she didn’t tend to keep any alcohol in the house either.

Friday nights, naturally, were always the worst. But Carolyn pushed this awareness aside as she got home from her walk, washed, had breakfast and got ready for work before strolling down to the bus station to catch her daily commute.

As the far from modern bus jiggle-joggled along, she sat alone, speculating on the lives of other passengers. Were they also persevering in quiet desperation like she was? The phrase, which she rather liked, had come to her from a book she read, though she couldn’t remember the title or author any more. Fresh from college with her literature degree, she remembered keeping a list of everything she read, but that habit barely lasted a year.

Her work day flashed by, hectic but not unbearable. Carolyn smiled when her manager praised her for making those spreadsheets sit up and dance under her quick fingers. After the monthly afternoon meeting, the big boss came over to thank her personally for the reports she had generated and how clearly the details were brought out in the charts that she created.

The bus home was crowded as per usual on a Friday, so she gave up her seat for a pregnant woman and hung on to the overhead strap for the rest of the journey.

As Carolyn walked in to her silent abode, she imagined a dog padding toward her or a cat waking up from a nap on the settee. But what about the downsides? Walking in all weathers and constantly cleaning up dog mess. Dealing with a litter box. She wasn’t quite sure how awful hairballs might be.

Feeling exhausted, she clicked shuffle on her saved Mojo soundtrack, then stripped off her work clothes and plunged into the shower.

It helped to have a plan and hers was simple. Friday was always Movie Night and rather than go out, she made it a night in with a ready meal and a pre-chosen pudding to make things easier. She bought a small book case a while ago and was slowly filling it with her expanding DVD collection. Any films she didn’t like got donated to a charity shop near her work place.

Not having someone sat next to her to discuss things as it progressed still bothered her, but if it was a very good story, she could forget about her own life until the end credits.

Tonight was an old film that someone at work had loaned her, The Buccaneers which the description told her focused on Captain Dan Tempest, an ex-pirate turned privateer. To her surprise, the 1950s movie captured her interest right from the opening scene.

After the film ended, she enjoyed her pudding then started reading Paper Cup by Karen Campbell, a thank you gift for helping untangle someone’s very haphazard spreadsheet. The opening chapter gripped her, so again she lost herself in someone else’s story.

When her head started nodding over the book with tiredness, she reluctantly put in a lacy blue bookmark and began preparing for bed.

If only she could fast forward to Sunday night. Her work day had been peppered with people mentioning their plans for the big day, either as mothers themselves or grandmothers or reluctant or appreciative adult children. Working from home during lockdown made overhearing random conversations impossible, although triggering comments still turned up in the shared chat sometimes.

Checking her mobile for any last texts or emails that might ease her loneliness, Carolyn then found her finger hovering over the icon of YouTube. Temptation Incarnate.

She mustered her resolve, reminding herself about all the benefits of sleep that she had researched, ironically on YouTube. She clicked off the Wi-Fi, watching the blue glow fade, then enjoying the feeling of satisfaction at her success as she made her way to her bedroom. She liked to think that, overnight at least, she had gone back in time to before the internet existed.

Lifting her phone to click on Insight Timer, she chose Rainy Days Best to Sleep by Carmen Ng. Absolutely marvellous how the app made tracks available offline as long as they were downloaded first. She had selected a number of favourites though on some nights, she had to listen to a few before she could finally escape into unconsciousness.

As Carolyn had learned from listening to various teachers on Insight Timer, she focused on her breathing, a slow breath in then a long breath out, for several intervals. Then she brought her attention to her neck and shoulders, releasing all the tension held there and shifting to consider other areas of her body, one by one.

The last thing she was aware of was the sound of the rain which accompanied her into a dream where she was sitting under an awning at a table outside a café in France.

Happy times for although it was raining and she was sitting alone, a familiar fawn coat was draped over the opposite chair.

She looked around for her mother who should be returning any minute.

“Carolyn,” the familiar voice caressed her.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw only the falling rain then a figure beyond the sparkling natural curtain became clear.

A small woman walked toward her wearing that typical blouse and skirt combo, necklace of pearls and sensible shoes. All of her clothing glistened with rain, which didn’t seem to bother her. Strangest of all, above her shoulders, the tops of a pair of beautiful, strong, lavender wings could be seen.

Carolyn could only say, “Louisa.” They had stopped calling each other mother and daughter years ago. Any other words were beyond her, not because of those amazing wings but because her mother’s eyes were holding her in that loving gaze that always believed in her, no matter what.

Then, as if it was the commonest thing in all the world, the winged woman in her familiar clothes swept closer and enfolded Carolyn with lavender wings as well as arms, a feathery, warm embrace surpassing any hug she had ever known.

She held tight, lowering her head into the soft touch of feathers, wanting to hold on forever.

“Your breakfasts,” a sweet French-accented voice offered.

Carolyn let go reluctantly, watching her mother sit down opposite her as the waitress served them coffee and plates of crepes, their preferred breakfast on this much-anticipated yearly holiday.

The rain continued to fall, shimmering down toward the pavement, a soothing sight and sound.

“I don’t understand,” Carolyn finally said as she watched her mother sipping coffee and tried to come to terms with the lavender wings.

Louisa nodded and set her cup down on the saucer. “I have been trying to visit you,” she replied, “for what I think you will perceive as a long time.”

Carolyn felt tears gathering in her eyes at the rhythm of the words, the texture of her mother’s voice, and the love radiating toward her.

“I had to sneak up on you in the end,” Louisa said with a smile. “All the other places, you kept running away from me. But here, you were sitting down and had no reason to be afraid.”

“What? How? Is this real?” Carolyn asked in quick succession.

Louisa picked up knife and fork. “Don’t let your crepes get cold,” she suggested. “We can talk while we enjoy breakfast.”

The dream, all too soon, ended with another warm, feathery hug and the softly spoken words, “Remember, I’m always with you.”

When Carolyn opened her eyes to a crack of light shining through a gap in her curtains, her face was wet with tears. She clung so tightly to the dream that she barely dared move.

Then she heard rain and thought at first that the Insight Timer track was still playing. Impossible because it only lasted an hour.

She scrambled out of bed, quickly went to relieve her full bladder and then came back to push the curtains aside. It was, indeed, raining.

Grabbing her mobile, Carolyn clicked into WhatsApp and texted herself as many details about the dream that she could recall. The reality was beginning to fade. And those fabulous wings!

When she finally pressed Send, the icon come up that meant the message would not be sent until the mobile was next connected to the world wide web.

She hurried downstairs to switch the Wi-Fi on and then, when she looked out the window to see if it was still raining, she saw a piece of a rainbow gleaming.

Always with you.

Carolyn had never gotten dressed faster in her entire life.

Being in such a hurry, she dropped her keys twice when she was trying to unlock the front door.

Then she was outside. The rainbow hovered like a magical creature above the slate roofs and chimney tops.

A few drops of rain mingled with the tears on her face as she murmured a thank you to her mother who had told her to watch for a sign and, in future, other signs.

Today, Carolyn resolved to purchase a special notebook to record her dream and this first sign. She felt comforted by the hope of maybe other signs and dreams yet to come.