Madeleine, my mum

My mum is called Madeleine. I wish I was more like her.

Mum and the kids wearing the beanies she knat 

Tallulah, cousin Cecily (front), Harley, Jackson, Mum and Cy

Mum just left after staying a week with us. She arrived from Ohope Beach, NZ and within hours our lives in Oakland were a little more sorted.  She re-potted all my succulents, tidied our pantry, cleaned the tarnish off the aluminium bowls and scrubbed our cloth chairs clean. After that she undertook the most onerous task of all: helping eight-year-old Cy with his homework.

Mum re-potting my succulents in our backyard

She evinced a sigh of relief from everyone she talked to. Their lives had become a little more sorted too. Was it something she said? Maybe not - it's because she is that increasingly rare thing today -  a good listener. (Ever rarer here in the East Bay, the bumper sticker capital of the world, where many drivers feel the need to display every single opinion they've ever held.)

At my birthday party and throughout the week Mum could be seen in a corner quietly listening to someone; bending her knees, nodding her head, swaying back and forth as they talked about lives. "Oh yes, oh lovely."

She knows a lot about politics said a friend who talks a lot about politics. She knows how to have fun, said a friend as Mum happily watched them dancing. She's very wise, said another friend, though I didn't hear Mum give any advice.

I've long since given up comparing myself to her. "None of you got your mother's looks for a start" my uncle once said to me and my two sisters. (We just laughed, silly old fool) Mum won all the squash tournaments when we were growing up, she now wins all the golf tourneys. She bought up four children without the help of cleaners and babysitters and after-school programmes though she sewed for hours a day to pay for our ballet and tennis and holidays in a caravan. No motels or restaurants or kids clubs.

I can type better that her though. Her "code" emails are classic.

Table tennis tables: "Whereever wil you put it is it an outdors job perhaps it wil fit in THE SHED but what a great idea all the boys in the neibourhood will be around Im going to practice against the side wall just in case I get challenged Had the immediate neighbours around for drinks tonight Lots of laughs M"

What she did today: "Had a lovelyetime and home tomore drizzle Scored the pottle of olives from Linda as she had heaps ofother Garden dippg wet but so much color and Pohutus all out too Tell Pete that a parcel is here from Maine Lve M"

Despite her gentleness, she's never sentimental. On the phone last night I asked her the big questions: What have you learned from life? Oh, I don't know - have a go? she ventured. How have you stayed married for 52 years I asked? She laughs. "Well I suppose just stay there." She laughs again: "People says all sorts of things when they are asked that question and you know it's a damn lie. They say things like: I've been in love for 60 years, what a load of rubbish...What's the alternative is my philosophy."

Mum and Dad 53 years ago, Wellington, NZ

Nevertheless, I know that at the end of her plane and bus journey, Dad will be there to pick her up from the bus, probably an hour early, not wanting to be late.  Her face will light up when she sees him and they will greet each other first in a shy formal way, as if they just met 50-odd years ago. "Hello Madeline" he'll say, stepping in to hug her. "Hello Arthur" she'll say. Then he'll give a laugh, pat her on the bum and load her bag into the boot of their car.

Did you have a good time? Dad will ask as they drive away from the bus stop and they will chat all the way home. And all the way through the sunny afternoon in their sunny house beside the sea...