Fireside reflection one winter evening

I am sewing. I wonder whether it will

be of some comfort to know years hence.

The hours spent by the stove till

this record is shepherded towards present tense.

 

First a sweatshirt, then a blanket to pullover

the broadening shoulders by the fire side.

Each stitch a tie that pricks our regret over

a loosening grip; each badge a source of pride.

 

And tomorrow’s tomorrow, will they see

the same pangs or remain blind in slumber

– just as their forebears be –

until loss and longing fuels their hunger.

 

 

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Ebb

too soon, too soon

too soon to say

whether I miss them

whether I’m just tired

whether the weather is getting me down

whether the tide waits for no man

whether that’s just for those without a plan

whether I’ll hide, survive or drown

too soon to say

too soon, too soon

Searching, endlessly searching

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It’s been a difficult few weeks.

Busy and not busy, beat and bored, striving and failing and striving again. Writing has taken a back seat to family and other matters, not least trying to regain some fitness. Words have eluded me; lines distant horizons that I keep cycling towards but never reach. At the moment it seems more important to watch and listen.

QualityOfLine-web Incidental Comics

I will not pretend

My experiences over the past week or so have been mixed and interesting. I’ve encountered considerable generosity and goodwill and had to balance that with some serious decision making. I’ve had to play the game and remain true myself. Occasionally I’ve had to draw a line.

I’m mindful that having had the luxury of choice in my life made this week a roller coaster I could step off, rather than a merry-go-round that I couldn’t. I’m not sure that I’d have, or be willing to expend, that sort of energy on a regular basis any more. In the past? Perhaps.

You have to use your energies where they are needed most and still retain some joy for life. Being bitter is never as good as a pint of it. And so, as I checked on the boys sleeping in their beds last night I received a timely reminder. Probably one of the most important pieces of advice someone could pass on to their child. As I stood there in the dark the voice on the CD player was calm and deliberate:

“When you grow up and have children of your own, do please remember something important. A stodgy parent is no fun at all! What a child wants -and DESERVES- is a parent who is SPARKY!” 

I stayed a moment longer in the silence, then drew another line.

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