Whispers of Travel

(for Louisa, who named this poem for me, for Kevin who travels with me and for Molly, who I’ll always come home for x)

When I have been to places new,

I’m filled with riches shared with you.

I’ve learnt of cultures, strange to me,

And looked around in wondrous glee.

But I’m always a stranger and never at home,

For after a while the glee’s not alone.

It starts off gently, begins to pull

A yearning for home, for my heart to be full.

Where autumn air hangs all around,

Where the leaves and the mud become one on the ground.

Winding grey lanes over hills and through woods,

I am one with my home, I belong where I should.

With all that I’ve seen, I’m returning much richer,

I’ve built up some pieces to add to my picture.

A picture of people, places and time,

Dissolving together with past thoughts of mine.

The road still stretches out in front

Which way shall I go? What path do I want?

I will float on the wind, let it take me there,

To places I love in and places to care.

But after a while, I feel it again,

Like swimming upstream, my strength starts to wane.

For a time I have stayed, but now it has changed.

I go, leave this place, and its lives, all arranged.

Back to my home as if all were a dream,

Leaving no shadow of me, where I’ve been. 

Coming home from Lille, France ~ November 2018 

Lille, November 2018

St Pancras ~ Tracy Emin installation 

The Falling Leaves ~ September 2018

Dear Molly,

I feel the autumn coming

Long before I see.

The noise of the summer fades

Peace begins to fall.

I remember in autumn

The memories hang low. 

When autumn leaves start to fall

Why does it get me?

Melancholy mist comes down

I know it so well.

The leaves; some green, some yellow

Soon they’ll all be gone.

And so will my doubts and fears

But they will be back.

Maybe they won’t be the same

I pause and reflect.

The leaves are red and orange.

It is now their time.

As they all lift on the wind

Then fall to the ground,

I can finally exhale

I try to let go.

I’m more myself again now

I smile at the clouds

And Autumn, she smiles at me.

Her smokey air will clear

And big skies give me new hope

That I’ll be ok

And as;

nights grow long and days grow short

Nothing is certain……

                 ……but hope, and spring.

All my love, Mummy x



Photos - Autumn sunset, at home in Brinkley. Oliver’s new dragonfly friend at university. You and Milly. You and your cousins at Nana’s birthday lunch and big autumn skies at home ~ September 2018

"For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning." ~ Little Gidding, T.S. Eliot

Paris ~ 2018

Sometimes I find it hard to know how to enjoy the world. I am anxious not to waste the moments. Sometimes too anxious to enjoy them. As a child, time almost stood still. Summer days seemed endless and rolled into one. As an adult, time passes fast. I feel like, each time I take a step, I am stepping out of a memory forever. I don’t always feel like that. I look out of the window of our Parisian apartment at the spot on the street where we all stood for a family photo the day before. That spot will stay there forever and we will never stand there again. Children will grow up and, hopefully, remember. They will remember. You will remember. I just feel melancholy. I don’t know why.

It makes me happy to share Paris with you and the others. I hope you got that same feeling of wonder when you turned a corner to see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc du Triomphe......and your little face, when you first saw the Eiffel Tower, was just so full of excitement. Even simply the streets upon streets of beautiful, iron-balconied apartment buildings, with leafy greenery adorning them, are a joy. Paris is unmistakably beautiful.

After dinner, at the Trocadero fountain, the air still hot from the day, we cooled our feet in the water as children paddled and played and we waited for the sun to go down so we could all see the Eiffel Tower’s twinkly light show. 

Time does pass quickly but I try to preserve these moments, here in my writing, for you, for me, for us. And now, my darling, "We’ll always have Paris" ~ Casablanca, 1942 xxx

The ties that bind us

Dear Molly,

We’ve grown together in this last year. It has not always felt easy for me. Mostly, I have been overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by anxiety, optimism, fear but mostly, by love. The ties that bind us, you and me, are the ties which have held me together.

You, me and a blurry Penny cat 🐱

I have written to you less over this past year. We have been working through things together. I have watched and experienced you transitioning into a beautiful young girl who is now very aware of the feelings of the adults around her. As a result of this I try to find a balance between sharing my life with you and shielding you from my chaos. I may not always get it right. Sometimes you know me better than I know myself but just know that I always try.

You are maturing before my eyes and I, now, even more than before, cherish your every touch, the feel of your hand in mine, your urgent hug when you bounce to me like you’re on elastic and cling on like a baby monkey, your need to be close to me, the smell of the top of your head and the weight of your seven year old self, cuddled up on my lap. I know that you won’t always need me in the same way as you do now, so I make time for you and I hold onto all of those moments.

I knew before, but I know now that I will never know a love like ours again. Our ties will loosen and tighten with the ebbs and flows of life but they are strong and they are rooted in our souls. You are a part of me, growing and maturing separately to me, but linked to me forever. I love you sweetheart. 

After school bike rides 

“It’s because we’re the same Mummy”