13 minutes

13 minutes while the bread rolls are in the oven. 13 minutes peace and quiet - no-one looking over my shoulder. 13 minutes privacy to think my own thoughts. My mother told my sister that she never really bonded with me when I was a baby. A few months ago this was but I still think about it frequently. I feel hurt, shocked. But also a feeling of 'well that explains a lot'. I mean, I was fairly sure she loved me as much as she loves any of us -when you have so many children, it can't be that easy. But I thought she loved us all the same - lightly, distantly, concientiously if not over affectionately. But perhaps she loves the others more than me. Perhaps she has a favorite. A special one, one who makes her eyes light up, her heart sing, brings a smile to her face when she thinks of him or her. Probably her, there are more hers than hims in our family. I remember having a day out with her, just the two of us. That was very rare, obviously when you have such a large family. It must have been a Sunday or I was off school for some reason for there just to be the two of us. We went on the bus to Elland. I was about 11 or 12. There was some kind of fair or fete going on. I don't know how she even knew about it, she was pretty well trapped at home most of the time. I especially remember there was a raffle for a doll in a crib, dressed in christening clothes. I fell in love with it though I was never much into dolls and we bought a ticket. We didn't win it though but I still remember that feeling of intense longing, of wanting it so much. She made my clothes - well, she made most of all our clothes, we were that poor. But she was a really good dressmaker, we had some really nice stuff. I simply don't remember her treating me any differently to any of the others, which is why I'm so...so what? I can't describe it - it's a bit like being embarrassed or humiliated - the feeling you get when you assume you'll be invited to a party all your friends are going to and then find out you're not - crushed - that would do it. I'm crushed. I just took for granted that my mother loved me and maybe she didn't and I feel bereft. And I don't know what I've missed - or if I'm less of a person because I haven't had that complete unconditional love of another person. The way I love my sons, that I would lay down my life for without a seconds hesitation. I'd better make sure they never have to doubt that for a single second. Time's up.