Madge Mahoney's Morning Musings

It was the 18th of July and Madge had woken with memories of a day 20 years ago. It had been a bright sunny Sunday, 2004, and Madge and her late wife had ‘jumped the broom’ in front of 150 friends and family, in the magical garden that Madge still viewed as her sanctuary. At the time, it wasn’t yet legal for lesbians to ‘marry’ and civil partnerships were still a couple of years away. It seems so strange now thought Madge. To think we were not allowed to be legally bound in the eyes of the law. It was important to note progress. Important too to note that sometimes, the law is indeed, an ass.

The idea of jumping the broom had begun with a writing class. Her late wife had been a prolific writer. One day, the theme of the assignment had been romance and a woman in the class had said, “oh, well you won’t be able to do that will you? What with you being a you know, a (hushed voice) lesbian.” Her girlfriend (as she still was then), had come home and laughed like a drain about the women’s ignorance. The woman had literally moved her chair away when it was clear she was sitting next to a deviant. Idiot.

She had then written a beautiful story about two women in love, who, because it was not legal to marry, had instead followed an old tradition from the times of slavery. Slaves too were not allowed to marry and apparently had shown their love and lifetime commitment to one another by placing a broom across the door way and holding hands. They would jump over it, signifying their unity. It was a beautiful story which then was published in a book of stories by lesbians. Madge and her girlfriend had been delighted. The woman in the writing class, less so.

That had all been before Madge’s sudden diagnosis of MS. When that came, they had gone to Kenya, spent two weeks in a state of shocked devastation and Madge was forever grateful that when she suggested that they have their own broom jumping ceremony, her girfried had agreed. Mainly, she said afterwards, to give Madge something nice to think about amongst all the madness of a world turned upside down by disease. She hadn’t expected Madge to pull it off.

As it was, five months later, with much help from friends, a huge party was gathered, a gorgeous broom was decorated and presented and the two women, at 3 o clock on the sunniest of days, had held hands and jumped the broom together. Forever united. No laws needed. A friend had sung a song she’d written years ago. The same friend whose song would be played at her late wife’s funeral some 11 years later. One cannot underestimate the power of songs written for love. Or the loss of that love. Except, it’s never really lost.

On that perfect day, another friend sang ‘angels’ by Robbie Williams, his own nerves overcome by his commitment to friendship. Madge had always loved him. There had been the friend who had catered for all 150 people, serving smoothly from the kitchen. The friend who had made the cakes. People were lined up on the stairs, in the kitchen, in the garden, people everywhere. It was the most glorious of days with people from all walks and every continent. Madge recalled one friend, quite drunk, very happily standing against a wall and declaring that if aliens came to earth, this is what they should see. It was a lovely thought.

Now she thought of all the people who had been there, some of whom were still very much in her life. Some had passed on, taking up the stardust trail. Others had become part of the pasts that we make up along the way to our own exit. There were young ones then who had children of their own now. Indeed, today Madge would be having brunch with one of the petites, herself only just turned 18, her own mother like a daughter to Madge. Later in the day, she would be having dinner with her now beloved and her two daughters. She hadn’t known any of them 20 years ago and yet it seemed entirely natural that she knew them now. Life is like that when you live in a circle of love thought Madge.

The circle of life. It really was that. We are born, we have experiences along the way, we meet people, they shape our experiences, we face trials and tribulations, we do it alone or with others, we grapple, we grasp, we gallivant and we grow, we learn, we love, we live, we die and so it goes on. Memories of moments making it all make sense. Hmm, nice alliteration there Madge she thought. It felt to be a gorgeous day. If she did not much, she could still have an entirely fulfilling day thinking about her rich life. As it was, she would likely bask in the beauty of the broom and all that it represented. It was still in the hallway.

Of course it was ridiculous that prejudice could prevent so much and in the past 20 years, Madge had seen the increases in ignorance and the subsequent madness that was clear to everyone. Yet there was more openness and acceptance too. Love is the only answer and finding it underneath all the fear and foolishness was definitely a lifetime’s pursuit and passion. Madge was blessed and could feel it deep in her bones. For the people she had known then, she would always have a soft spot. For the people she knew now, she hoped she conveyed just how much they meant. For the people who had been there the whole way, she could only say, “ wow, what a ride it’s been eh?”

Madge hoped there would be more, whilst understanding that we just never know. It was why it was important to be present she supposed. With a sense of gratitude that seemed to be growing daily, Madge sent out cosmic hugs and hahalala wishes. Each person who had ever been in her life, even for a moment, was part of the whole. What a lovely feeling. Big love. xx