“Come here” “COME HERE” I shouted, but, as usual, Molly continued on her way, padding muddy footprints through the hall. Why had she done that? It had taken hours to get the place pristine, she knew that. “How dare you?” I exclaimed, “How could you?”. I followed her into her room, took off the wellies and pointed to the bathroom. She looked up at me sheepishly, followed the finger to the bathroom, and wiped off the mud from her legs. I frantically tried to remove the muddy evidence from the floor.
Of course, deep down, I knew why. Myself being deaf and dumb means my words and pleas are unheard, she knew I was angry but hadn’t looked at me, so she had an excuse. No matter, panic over, I calmed down, all evidence of her flounce eliminated. We can cope with little emergencies, we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow, this is just a tiny blip.
The following morning, I woke Molly with a big kiss and cuddle. Her blue eyes looking up at me, I nodded. It’s today, today is the day, I signed. She smiled. We both dressed, put the last of our treasured belongings in the case marked ‘personal’, took a last photo of childhood scribbles on the wall that had infuriated me 6 months ago, but I never did anything about. “Let’s go” I signed. We stepped through the door and closed it behind us. I imagined the hollow sound it must have made and nodded again to Molly. Running down the path into her Daddy’s arms, we both knew this was absolutely the right thing to do. This new start is a good thing for all of us. “You know I love you both very, very much” he signed. Yes, we do.
By Jan Davies