Memories

The grass needs cut, thought Bert aware he was now thinking like his ‘old man’. Long, limp, and dark green, the morning dew was wrestling the grass back to the ground. He cursed March; life woke up from winter sleep in March, and grass woke up earlier than most things. It still needs April’s heat to dry things out. Father taught him such facts when he was a boy.

He recalled the hours he spent sitting in the shed, sifting soil ready to take seeds, and him asking too many questions. Fathers face, reddened, and weather beaten. A fastidious man who as far as Bert was concerned knew everything. He was proud, set in his ways, and always had an answer ready.

Bert made a mental note to oil and grease the lawnmower. Preparation, and planning – two weeks of this sunshine would be long enough. Father would be pleased he was thinking ahead.

Looking out of the window, squinting at the low spring sunshine, he checked the sky for clouds and wind direction. Maybe it will hold, he thought. Reading the weather is another thing he learned at an early age from his Father, he didn’t know he was doing it half the time.

“Are you alright?” asked Margret pulling, and adjusting his tie.

“Stop bloody fussing woman,” he said loosening the tie in defiance.

His wife, smelling of her best perfume, the one she kept for special occasions, stood beside him looking out of the window, anxious.

The cars arrived one minute late. Bert, relieved the wait was over, took his mothers hand, and eased her slight frame up from the settee. She tightened his tie, and fixed his jacket, he didn’t argue.

“Ready?” he said.

Looking her age, ‘The old lady’, smiled at her son, and nodded. Bert, looking every bit like his Father, took her arm and led the way. Margret with all the other members of the family walked behind.

She brushed his shoulders with a damp hand, happy to take second place to his mother who needed him more.