Tuesday, 26 February 2013

302: Rear Window

Some people say that mothers have eyes in the back of their heads.  My mother has a window in the back of hers.  She parts her coarse red hair into two bunches that she secures, one just below each ear, with braids that look like curtain tie-backs.  And she watches.

I see her eyes swivel inside her head and she peers out at me through the glass.  Sometimes I think I might hear a clockwork click-click-click as she moves her eyes into the rear position.  If I did, I would have time to put back that biscuit, pick up that wet towel, hide that magazine.

My friend Joe thought she was staring at him once but I knew she was looking at me out of her window.  I saw the sun glint on the glazing and she squinted against its brightness.  I wondered if I could use that tactic against her so that I could do things in secret, but I could never work out quite how to do it.

She is one of those people who never closes the curtains, not even when she goes to bed at night.

No comments:

Post a Comment