2019 was a year of big changes for me… in both my personal life, and in my career. Some new doors opened, just as others closed tightly shut. Sometimes I was the one doing the closing, and other times, seismic changes took me by surprise. New and unexpected opportunities presented themselves, and while they offer new possibilities, they also mean that I have some important and consequential decisions to make.
I’ve baked bread on and off for 26 years. I started shortly after my dad died in 1993. He’d been pushed into early retirement in the late 1980’s, from the job that he loved more than anything… running a supermarket like it was a corner store. As for so many people, what he did for a living defined who he was as a person. Particularly since my mum had died in 1978, his work was his life… he had no hobbies, and worked long, long hours at the supermarket… going there long before it opened in a morning, and staying…
When one door closes in our lives, there is often the temptation to seek out another doorway to step through. We want to feel whole again, to feel in control again, and all too often, we choose to (in)conveniently overlook the fact that we first need to heal.
I don’t spend as much time writing poetry or short stories as I used to. I think that writing has often been a way for me to process things on my own, whereas nowadays I’m more likely to talk about things with others. I count myself lucky to have family and friends who are always ready to listen, to celebrate the good times and to help me through the not so good.
So many of us are wounded when we exit relationships. As we heal, there is often a conflict between wanting to love and be loved again, and our fear of being hurt and/or disappointed again. This poem is all about that conflict.
“A howling wind that blows the litter as the rain flows As street lamps pour orange colored shapes through your windows A broken soul, stares from a pair of watering eyes Uncertain emotions force an uncertain smile” Uncertain Smile, The The Each day, he was there. If it wasn’t in the morning when she pulled back her drapes, it was later in the evening; either when she checked that all of the doors were securely locked, or as she closed the drapes before finally getting into bed. It had been almost a week since Carol had first learned of his…
I’m the youngest of 3 boys, with an 11 year age difference between me and my oldest brother, David. He was my first hero and role model. He was the prodigal son who never really returned home. Some people embrace their roots, while others run from them, reinventing themselves along the way. David died in 2011 at the age of 61, and this was an attempt at working through my feelings.
September is always a time of reflection for me, and in looking back, I realized that so many of the key transitions in my life have all taken place in September.
This is based on memories of all of those games of ‘Hide and Seek’ with my daughter.
The little girl looked to her father and then looked back at the treasures spread out in front of her; the well-thumbed storybooks… each battered and well-worn item held its own story and its own place as part of the bond that held the girl and her father together.