John Haxton
It was decades later I realised that
the house had no windows on one side. Not
that windows matter much when you are small.
My world was inside or outside and some-
times it was up and down the stairs. There must
have been a time when in, out, up, down were
forbidden like the presence of light or
dark. Logic, not memory, tells me so.
A lilac grew in the garden, purple
flowers flourished. It is the first colour
I knew. I thought the flower and the hue
were my mother’s name. Some years later I
realised the cause of my confusion.
For me, my mother continued lilac.