Sunday. Day of rest.
Hoover, dust, polish, put out bins. Walk dog, hang out even more washing.
Lunch. Stuff a chicken, shove it in the oven. Start peeling potatoes.
Front door slams. Daughter’s gone. Text sent to find out why. Swimming, dancing, cinema.
Alright for some.  Fewer potatoes to peel.
Son staggers past, bleary eyed. “Homework at Kev’s. Laters.”
“When will you be…?”
"See you."
Fewer potatoes still. 
“Gotta run,” Hubby yells.
“Run where?”
“Work. Double shift. Remember?”
Mum puts down the peeler.
Oven off, slippers on, she reaches for a book. Curling in a comfy chair, she smiles.