Teardrops from the Moon

“Mum!!! Help!! Quick!!!”
Roberta Jane Jones trudged slowly towards the sound of her youngest daughter’s desperate pleas for help. When she arrived at the scene she found Sally sitting on the bed whilst David waved a magazine in her face. As she surveyed the spectacle before she clocked the title of the magazine “Strange Pets”
“David, you know your sister’s terrified of spiders” turning to the quivering 6 year old “Sweetie why don’t you stop annoying your brother and come downstairs to keep me company.”
The doorbell rang. Roberta jumped out of the way as 9 year old David ran past her to open the door to her eldest child, Rose. Roberta followed closely behind with Sally in tow. “Mummy…. Can we get a pet spider?”

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“Dammit woman, where’s my hat?”
“Don’t talk to me like that John. I am not your wife” Belinda replied sassily.
“Don’t start this again, I’m running late as it is”
Belinda and John resumed their regular performance, neither one switching or altering their role. As Belinda pleased with her lover, he dismissed her as always.
“I’ll phone you later” John left a shadow of a kiss on Belinda’s cheek as he ran out the door. Belinda stood, resigned to her uncertain fate, never knowing when she would next see her ‘One’.
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Roberta walked around the supermarket in a daze, replaying the message she had just received from her husband.

Aisle one, we need some apples; it’s the only fruits the kids’ll eat. Last night? Last night? Aisle two, Sally needs a new school shirt, best pick one up while I’m here. He enjoyed last night? Aisle one again, Rose is on another health food kick. It’s all about celery this week. He wasn’t with me last night. Aisle four, nothing, Aisle five nothing. Aisle six, biscuits. One each. Barbie ones for Sally, something fire-engine related for David and low fat cereal bars for Rose. It’s been a long week. Might as well get a packet of chocolate biscuits for myself. He was working last night. Better make that two packets. At least he said he was. Actually, maybe I should just skip the biscuits and just get chocolate. Well he definitely wasn’t with me last night.

As Roberta realised that the message was not intended for eyes she realised that tears had already began to course down her face. She stopped pushing the trolley. She stopped trying to recall her virtual shopping list. She stopped pretending to be ok and allowed herself to let go. She sobbed for her hair which had been ignored, last on an endless list of to-dos. She bawled for her three beautiful children who she no loner knew. She wept for the husband who she’d been unable to keep. She cried and she cried for the tears which she had failed to cry before.
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