My precious things

When you were little

I had to leave you

And go to work

And you would cry

And it would hurt me so bad

That in desperation I would strip off the delicate gold watch

My mother had given me

It had been hers

And our maiden names are wrapped together on the back

I had over wound it outside an exam at boarding school barely three weeks after she gave it to me

And she hadn’t said a word

Just had it repaired

My precious thing

And I would slide it into your tiny, tear drenched hands

“Darling I will be back again, just hold my precious thing for me”

And you would sniff and snot

Into your sleeve

And nod

Leave reluctantly with the teacher

Who would then take the watch

and put it away safely

Still, it would be with you all day

And I never let on





Not the watch


My most precious thing

*Together with your brother, I did the same hack with him – he just realized it a little faster.

My Mum used to call her family her jewelry – what a mixed bunch but all proper gemstones and not a costume paste replica among us

I found “our” watch in my jewellery box – the poem was done before I even began to type

My sons

My husband

My precious things

17 thoughts on “My precious things

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