When I was a girl, dreaming big about what I wanted to be when I grew up, I never once imagined the role of caregiver. Seriously, has any child ever once said, “If I can’t be an astronaut, I’ll be a carer!”
Yet, ironically, caring for others, whether cooking or nursing or whatever, is what I’ve spent a lot of my adult life doing. Note to younger self: you might be much better off studying something in the medical field, because that knowledge WILL come in handy! Much more so than a passing knowledge of passive voice or defamation law, however interesting that might be.
Nursing is something I’m doing this week, which is what prompted this reflection on the carer role. Increasingly, caregivers are part of the sandwich generation, caught between looking after their parents, and their children. And it will happen more and more, as people have children later in life, and also live longer, which is fine. It’s just the reality we’re living in.
Fabric of the World
The old woman said,
“Here are my problems,”
and laid out them out,
like a crocheted rug,
of multi-coloured squares,
the kind she used to make, but
with dozens of dropped stitches.
“Fix them one by one, please.”
While watching TV -
cartoons - the girl looked up
from the couch and said,
“I don’t want to see you
come home crying.
Keep old woman stuff there.
Keep calm stuff here.”
Neat as ironed linen.
And how is it, it’s so late?
The woman’s sober, awake,
obsessively scrolling socials,
like stripping stains, threading
needles, or feeding
cotton through the machine.
All in case the fabric of the world
changes, and she misses it.
©elsp2024
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