Promises So Much More

Remember Balito – of course I do, when we returned
from holiday, hair sun-bleached, colleagues enquired
whether I had dyed my hair, ran out of the flat straight
onto the beach and then into the sea,  and in between
checking vegetables on the stove while you sat glued
to a scrambled TV screen trying to watch world cricket
and ignoring the sea

We drove back in the red Renault passing through the
Zulu country - The Valley of a Thousand Hills - - while
cheerfully waving at friendly people, heard only after-
wards it was dangerous territory; so yes, I would love
to stay in the same flat on the beach again, get up to
run straight into the sea - a lot of rocks to circumvent
and swimming carefully

Taking care not to hurt feet on sharp reefs underneath,
show the kids where we holidayed before hoping they
will love it as much as we did many years ago, me less
athletic and you hopefully in possession of DSTV so as
to watch without messing up your eyes with scrambled
images – ignoring the sea, saying you don’t care what
we do as long as

We leave you alone, I remember my loneliness then –
my joy is having the kids even if they are at the stage
where mother is perpetually in their way, yet they only
laugh uproariously and then help me with everything,
this holiday promises so much more than the time I
only had you for company…