THERE'S A GHOST IN THE KITCHEN

                                There's a Ghost in the kitchen

I can't smell baked rice pudding or the bitter sweet aroma of 'Chateau Tanunda  Brandy,'  hidden in a secret glass,  behind her favourite chair , .... so It can't be Grandma.

I can't smell  dusty pipe tobacco or feel crispy whiskers on my face. The old fuel stove isn't crackling and sparking and spitting as it gobbles up pieces of freshly sawn timber. The orange and lemon trees are bare and the vegetable garden is empty ....so it can't be Grandad.

If I could hear a whistling kettle, or  see someone pottering in the garden, or smell  big slabs of steaming white bread fresh from the bakers cart, I would know it was Nanna....but I can't.

I can't hear band music playing or graceful footsteps gliding skillfully across a polished dance floor.  I can't hear the voice of a softly spoken gentle man and there's nobody tinkering in the shed.... so It can't be Pa.

I can't feel anybody piggy backing me for miles across  hot sands because,' I didn't want to walk,' and I can't see two big strong hands fighting off an angry ocean  to save his little girl as she lay on the bottom of the sea bed,....  slowly drowning. I can see no beautiful, strong, brown body sitting on the rocks, fishing rod in one hand, beer in the other and there's nobody walking through the garden gate with yummy chocolates and little surprises for all....so it can't be Dad.

I can't hear the old blue Ford pulling into the drive or the kids yelling out, ' Hey Mum, Dad's home.'  Theres no footy on the telly, no cricket games in the back yard and  no late night talks on the verandah.  I cant hear the sound of my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces and I can see no ashes scattered on a gentle breeze, on a beautiful sunny day. So it can't be the man that I  loved for ever, and ever...the one who isn't here anymore.

But what's that I  hear? It's the sharp snip of scissors slashing through pale satin. It's  the whirr of the old Singer sewing machine.....the one she brought when she was young and newly married.  She's making a special dress for Aunty Janette's wedding....and It's well past midnight!

And I can hear the sharp click clack of knitting needles. She's knitting me a 'Dolly Jumper,' for the school dance. They're all the rage and I need it in a hurry. She knits at night ...if she's not too tired...from working all day....cleaning other peoples houses... Oh God that hurts.

What's that I smell? It's gramma pies cooling on the  kitchen bench and salty bacon soup bubbling on the stove and .... something burning on the grill? She always burnt the chops!
It's Sunlight soap in the bathroom and funny smelling floor polish on the kitchen lino.
It's the lingering scent of  White Linen perfume on very special occasions and the sweet scent of peach coloured  roses in the garden....her garden...the one we used to walk through.

What's that I see? A pretty little posie of hand picked flowers from the front garden and a suit? ...It's velvet.  Rich, deep, blue velvet.  It has a little frill on the collar and lovely buttons down the front and the skirt matches.  She made it herself. It was so sophisticated!  I see silk stockings and pretty red lipstick lips. Around her sun tanned throat she wears a string of  gorgeous, creamy white  pearls. Uncle Graham brought those for her .... they were her favourite's.
She's all dressed up and she's going to visit the Queen ... and...I remember.


What's that I feel? It's cosy and warm and snug. It's a special feeling, and it's all mine, for just this moment...and forever. It gives me goose bumps and makes me tingle on the inside. It's keeping me safe, protecting me, loving me...always.
Azalea's....her favourites.  Azalea's  everywhere!
I feel so calm. It's a beautiful feeling. It brings me gifts ....  beautiful memories.

Yes, there's a ghost in the kitchen
Her name is Margaret Rose
And she's my Mum.