Over the years they shared a silent space

Over the years they shared a silent space —
sparse words were spoken in the early hours of morning
while everyone else was still asleep.
Even the house sleeps at that time,
the mosquitoes drowsy from last nights’ drunkennesses
and the air moist and warm, thick with used breath.

Over the years they shared a silent space —
she had her own day to begin, and he his own.
Ever so often the years would mill around, daring them,
mocking them,
change, change,
but some things did not change.

— Coffee for father-in-law, mother-in-law
— Tiffin for kids
— Lunch for everybody
— Leave for office

After a while was

— Coffee for father-in-law
— Lunch for everybody

And things do change again,

— Coffee for father-in-law (no sugar)
— Tiffin for self
— Instructions for cook
— Leave for school

(While the walls changed with every transfer,
and menus as well,
the clocks were carefully packed and unpacked each time.)

And now when I am home sometimes,
Roles reverse;
just to set right the malicious years I see my mother,
schoolteacher,
off to school.

Over the years they shared a silent space,
Over regulation tumblers of coffee.

I am very sure, at times,
that when he dies she will find herself moorless
in the hours dedicated to a routine forgotten over the years,
adhered to like clockwork.
And at other times I am not so sure.