Fireworks

Not only was my Mother the only Princess of the house, in a way she was also the favoured child, always prioritised to reduce the risk of rages and tantrums and pandered to even when absent as is the case in this tale.

One November she was hospitalised for a few days with her Asthma.

During this time it was Bonfire Night.

We always had fireworks and a small fire which delighted and excited me and gave my Father a chance to burn some rubbish. She never came into the garden because the `smoke got on her chest` but would watch a couple of fireworks briefly from the window before returning back to the telly.

So not really that interested then.

When the box of fireworks was purchased I would want to have a good at look at them, I loved reading the names and imagining what they would look like.....Emerald Fountain, Crimson Sunset, Azure Shower etc......

Any break from the dull staid routine was a novelty.

"I hope your Mother`s home for Bonfire Night" he kept fretting.

She wasn`t.

So as the night grew dark and the whizzes and bangs from other peoples displays began to be heard I asked where our fireworks were.

"OH we dare not av them, your Mother wouldn`t like it if we left her out" he answered, more to himself than to me.

What ?!   Left her out from peeping through the net curtains for a nano second ?

 "We might av them when she comes home"

We made do with a small fire and few sparklers. I wrote swear words in the air with mine when he wasn`t looking to vent my disappointment.

The box of Fireworks remained in a cupboard for months and eventually disappeared. 

On asking where they were I was told they wouldn`t be any good now so had been binned.

She was 47. I was 9.