The Last Outfit

Your first day.
Your mum would check your school bag the day before,
then check it again on the morning of your first day at school.
Your uniform had been ironed a week ago,
yet it was never enough for her.
She would check once more that your tie
wasn’t too tight around your neck.
She would loosen it again.
She had already been around the neighbourhood,
asking the older pupils to look after you.
You had guessed all her concerns.
“This is typical of my mum,” you would have said.
That night, on your tiptoes,
you entered her room.
In a soft voice, you asked,
“And Mum, what are you going to wear?
And please don’t take your cakes to my teachers.
You don’t know them yet.”
In that moment, she understood
what had been troubling you all day.
“I’ll look nice, love. Don’t worry,” she replied.
“I would never embarrass you.”
But I’m sure she did on your funeral day.
She didn’t know what to wear.
She looked odd and miserable.
But who cared?
It was the last day for both of you.