Over half way through November and I haven’t posted here at all this month. Sorry about the pause!
November is my birthday month, and a time for remembering all the 59 Novembers I have seen. Happy times and sad; memories of celebrations with family and friends, some no longer with me in the flesh.
We have been away for a few days, visiting our little grandson, and doing all the the grandparent things. I’m not granny but “farmor” – Swedish for father’s mother. It was great to be together as a family for a celebration and thanksgiving for this special new life. New memories being made.
Writing together with the “Just Write” group in the library this morning it was an honour and an encouragement to share both our happy memories and sadnesses. And it made me remember just what a privilege it is to have been given the gift of life.
I know, you never intended to be in this world.
But you’re in it all the same.
so why not get started immediately.
I mean, belonging to it.
There is so much to admire, to weep over.
And to write music or poems about.
Bless the feet that take you to and fro.
Bless the eyes and the listening ears.
Bless the tongue, the marvel of taste.
You could live a hundred years, it’s happened.
I am speaking from the fortunate platform
of many years,
none of which, I think, I ever wasted.
Do you need a prod?
Do you need a little darkness to get you going?
Let me be urgent as a knife, then,
and remind you of Keats,
so single of purpose and thinking, for a while,
he had a lifetime.