My Mother

I just had a thought. My mother, who is very in tune with the way that I feel and the ups and downs of my emotions must be having a panic attack. Not literally, but in the back of her mind, there is that worry. Is she going down that road again? How do I help her? What can I say to make it all better?

My writings of late have been about my depression but my poetry is a freedom of expression. For all the poems I have written every single one, my mom struggles to understand. She use to say to me, ‘It is good, but does it have to be so bleak?’ And I did not know how to answer. Bleak is what I do, it is what I relate to. And now this is seguing from a conversation about my mother to the evolution of my poetry.

I have always been dark. I like twists and turns, and devious minds. I like feeling scared (i.e. jumping out from behind the door and scaring the shit out of me) and my poetry has always reflected that. My poetry has been an expression for my feelings. Not always but for the most part, yes it has.

Until now. Now I am finding that I can twist and turn words and I can create imagery that is blindingly there, in front of your eyes. Which leads me back to my mother. I wrote a poem and posted it about abuse. My mom and my BFF freaked. They thought it was indicative of my emotions. At one time it might have been, but now, I have found the freedom to expand beyond that. To take my feelings and emotions and twist and spin them so that they tell a story.

So back to my mom…..she worries about me, she tries very hard to understand me, she supports me and is my cheerleader from hell and back……I am certain she would probably fight the devil himself for custody of me (and truth be told he would give me back ’cause who but my mom is gonna get me) and she has given me the freedom to be me….

Hey mom, I am saying this for the world to hear, I love you and appreciate all the things that you have done for me. And most of all…..thanks for believing in me.

Kinda Cool

Driving my son to school yesterday and we have a conversation about coolness.  He relates coolness to the clothing he wears or does not wear during the winter months.  Apparently a toque, scarf and mittens are totally uncool.

I explain to him that he is eight years old. At that age no one is cool. I do not care who you are you are not cool at eight.  Also explained that the only time he is allowed to be cool is when he is in high school. We have like six years before we worry about that.

“Hey Buddy just so you know I was not cool either. Not in school and not now.”

“Mom you are totally cool.”

“I am not. Child I am a book reading uncool mom in toque, mittens and boots.”

“Mom me and bf’s name totally think that you are sooooooooo cool.”

I did not know how to respond. I have finally become cool. It has taken me 44 years but there you have it. In the eyes of the one person that it is important for me to be a little bit outstanding, I am cool. Bonus is his bf totally thinks that I am cool too! What a win for the week.