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The Morra

Author: A T McDonald
Year: Hope

The tea tray shakes in yer hawns. The two mugs wobble an’ the biscuits faw tae the side. Ye slow yer walk in the hope there willnae be spillage. Ye poured too much, we’ve aw done it. Ye’ve hud a lot oan so naebody blames ye.

In the living room, ye balance the tray oan wan hawn lit a waiter an’ hawn a mug tae yer parent. They take it and thank ye as ye sit doon wae yer ain. Nae spillages! Ye place the tray between ye’s so baith huv easy access tae the biscuits. Fir near thirty years they raised ye so it’s only fair ye start repaying the favour.

There’s been a lot a stress lately. What wae the bad news an’ that. The trips tae the doctor, then the hospital, then the doctor again, then the hospital. A seemingly never-ending cycle. A barrage ae emotionless texts fae yer parent detailing the objective result ae these trips. X happened. Y happened. Would emojis huv made the reading any easier? Ye’d be sitting in work glancing at yer phone even though ye’re no supposed tae, jist so ye can see how much mare time ye’ve goat wae them.

Well if aw goes tae plan the morra ye’ll huv thum a lot longer than ye thought eftir that first hospital visit. The operation is the morra. Doctors unanimously think it’ll go smoothly. Ye almost don’t believe them despite their degrees. 'Ah know ye’re the doctor, but have ye met me? It usually aw goes wrong.' But no this time. Tomorrow the bad bits get removed and ye cin care fir them while they’re in recovery fir a couple month. Think ae it as a trial run for when they’re older and needing ye tae look eftir thum.

Yer parent takes a sip ae tea and disnae complain about how milky it is. They turn and smile at ye fae the seat they’re cocooned in. Ye grimace at yer ain sip. The stress has made simple tasks lit making a cup ae tea difficult. Yer hawns shake aw the time noo. Life has become a cardio workoot in itself. Who needs a sauna when ye’ve goat tension? Sure maist ae it’s yer ain neuroses but this time ye’re fairly justified. Ye’d be smug if you wurnae so anxious.

But the stress ends the morra. Tonight ye get tae enjoy some terrestrial television wae them content in the fact that it aw gets fixed. A routine operation. Wid be in and oot if they didnae huv tae rest overnight. Ye’ll get yer steps in at the hospital tae, haunting the corridors. Ye take another few good sips ae the milk ye showed a tea bag. The warmness cuddles ye in a way yer parent cannae right now. Even the memory ae those cuddles soothes you. It’ll aw be ok. It’ll be back tae normal. Ye’ll go back tae glancing at texts in work and they’ll be daft memes that make you cringe. Ye’ll go back tae visiting for Sunday roasts. Ye’ll go back tae days oot fir tea or trips tae the pictures. The two of ye’s will go back tae being happy again. Ye put the mug doon on the arm ae the chair and sigh lit a dug. They look over tae ye at the sound ye’ve made. 'Ah love you,' they says to you. A wee smile cracks on yer face. The anxious veneer shatters. Aw they hud tae dae was say wan sentence and it’s aw better. It’ll aw be ok.

'Aye, Ah love you tae.'