| Chaidh mi a-steach dhan t-seomar far an
robh’ mo mhathair. An leanabh na h-achlais.
Bha coltas sgith air mo mhathair. Chunnaic mi
deur na sùil an am plaide ri taobh mo mhathair
thug iad Georgey air a phaiste. Bha Gerogey
maol ach gu robh dosan am meadhan
a ceann. Bha aodann, rocaichadh, dearg oirre,
le sran snog mar putan, thog mi suas I gu socair
nam achlais anns a bhad, thoisich Georgey a’caoineath
mar sin chuir mi I an achlais m’athair
aig an àm sin thoisich m’athair a’caoneadh
a chiad àm riamh
Chaidh ceithir bladhna seachad. Tha e
ana-creideamhach mar a dh’atharraich i
a-nis cha bith mi faicinn am piuthar
beag bhoidheach. Tha mi faicinn maoidheadh seo.
Tha i daonnan a cuir dragh, a milleadh mo sheomar
agus daonnan faighinn spors agus a dol gu taigh
m’aintaidh agus a faicinn na cuileanan
aig mo phiuthar ach an uair a tha mi a’suidhe agus
a coimhead oirre na cadal, tha mi
faicinn am paisde beag bha innte
|
I entered the room my Mum was in; I saw
it. The baby in her arms. Mum looked
exhausted. I saw a tear in her eye. In a
blanket, beside my mum. They had named
the baby Georgey. Georgey was
bald, except for a little stump of hair in the
middle of her head. She had a red
scrumpled up face, with a cute button
nose. I picked her up, slowly, and held her
in my arms. Georgey immediately started
to cry, so I put hher in my Dad’s arms. Then
for the first time ever, my Dad started to cry.
Four years went by. It is almost
unbelievable the way Georgey has
changed. Now I no longer see the sweet
little sister: I see this menace. Always
getting me into trouble, always trashing my
room and always getting to do fun and
exciting jobs like going to my Aunt’s house
and getting to see my sister’s pups. But
when I sit back and look at her sleeping, I
suddenly see the wee baby she used to be. |
