celebrating and creating our own LGBTQ+ history in honour of Sheila McWattie

day twenty nine

not supple

as it once was

holds inside the

elements of

all I ever was,

like a chattering

lunch-flavoured

fresh tomato-smelling

garlic-sweetened

city full of noisy

echoing spaces

 

this woman

would stand firm

beside the

crashing shore

and yell

with all her lungs

I am full

of life

I will not fail

 

the power

of this woman

lies deep

in her continuing

her shouting

singing

wild, indignant self…..

 

 

VJ,  71,  Herne Bay

 

 

Vision

From the dawn of time and life.

We see.

Or should I say we can see.

But do we see? Really…see?

Do we see the gentle smile of our mothers, hinting at pride, as we take our first steps? Do we notice the wince and the furrowed brow on our father’s face, as we ride our bike for the first time? Do we understand the pain and the fear etched across their faces as we walk through the door on our first day at school?

I obviously didn’t. I didn’t realise the wealth and range of emotion my parents went through. Not until, that is, I became a parent myself.

She came from a loveless pairing. But she was no less wanted, planned, as we both wanted children. I suppose there was some selfish, forlorn, abstract thought that a child may bring us closer together, rekindle some kind of fire that was long since reduced to little more than the charred remains of attraction. But that wasn’t to be. We split when she was six months old.

But even though the parents cared not for each other, we both fell in love afresh…

With her!

I remember holding her, seconds old, marvelling at her tiny hands and feet and a mess of blue and pink skin, a squished up little face, puffy eyes that weren’t fully open, and seeing the fear and confusion in her wee features. What must have been going through that tiny little head? From the safe, calm, comfort of the womb, out into the lights and noises and smells of a hospital theatre! A full frontal, intense assault on her senses.

She takes a few minutes to absorb it, no doubt bewildered by the urgency and the cacophony, with no references and no comprehension. Then she starts to cry. The sound absolutely pierces my heart to its very centre and in that moment, with every fibre of my being, I promise her that I will do everything in my power to protect her, to support her, to enable her.

And my love for her is, immediately, all encompassing.

It is at this very point I realise the depth of meaning of almost every single word that my parents have ever said to me.

I also know that I will go on to say all of those things that I promised never to say to my kids, when I was a kid myself!

I love you Heather!

I’m sorry, Mum and Dad!

 

Kelly Tonks, 40’ish

Folkestone

 

 

 

 

 

Comments on: "day twenty nine" (3)

  1. double bubble of splendiferousness to bring Feb Feb 20 to a close

  2. Brought a wee tear…..

  3. Jenny King said:

    Both pieces are excellent and both very moving in their different ways.

    What amazing contributions we have had this year. A very high standard.

    Thanks so much for facilitating this annual creative writing project, Fiona Thomson. It’s brightened up a very wet, windy and long February greatly.

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