I am in my mother's bed. The big iron bed that was my grandmother's. There is a sheet over me and I feel as if I am sinking down into the mattress. I have been so sick, but I've had such a nice rest. Now I hear a fly buzzing about. I feel a little bit of a warm breeze coming through the window and it brushes a light kiss on my face.
I slowly open my eyes. My mother is sitting beside me on the bed, facing me, reading a magazine. I realize I'd been hearing the rustle of the pages as she turned them. As she's reading she is slowly waving a fly swatter over me, shooing the fly that got in and that is trying to interrupt my rest. My eyes close and I sink back into sleep.
I wake again. I am warmer. I don't really need the light sheet over me now, but I am too drowsy to push it off. The warm breeze is making the white lacy curtains flutter a little at the window. Now I hear the drone of a lawn mower in the distance. I drift to sleep again.
I wake, but don't open my eyes. There is a nice, comforting sound coming to me. A sloft swish, swish, swish, a muted thump, then a slight rustling. Then the whole thing repeated. I listen to this repeated refrain a few times before I push to open my eyes. I see my mother at the foot of the bed, ironing. Swish, swish goes her iron over the garment. A soft, muted thump when she sets it down on the ironing board. A slight rustle as she moves the garment around on the board or takes it off to replace it with another. Occasionally she hums a partial tune, quietly, almost to herself. What a wonderfully soft, gentle, comforting series of sounds to awake to.
