Opening myself

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

~Maya Angelou

Looking back to my 13 year old self,

my 17 year old self,

my 20, 30, year old self.

All those years

slipped through my fingers so quickly.

Yesterday we ate breakfast

at a pretty little cafe

that was bunged to the doors with students,

older women, middle aged men.

Little children.

Us.

All ages of life were there.

We went to hear someone from the association of

Christian doctors and dentists speak.

Over scrambled eggs and deliciously cooked

crispy bacon~

we were asked to write on tiny pages

who we thought we were.

My answers were erratic,

elusive.

I sat and stared at the small piece of white paper.

I pressed the sweet hot coffee

to my lips.

I realised in that moment,

all those years of yearning~

to teach,

to get my degree,

to *be somebody*

have slipped past.

Every day, I have to remind myself

we have a purpose for living.

I'm here for a reason.

I'm just not sure what it is.




Things I remember from the seventies:

Mary Quant eyeshadows

Hotpants :)

Shoes I could barely balance in, let alone walk in


Things I remember from the eighties

Getting married

Starting a family

Princess Diana, her life and her death


Things I remember from the nineties
Not a lot, amazingly, but writing lots of poetry

Things I remember from the noughties
Getting divorced ( ouch ouch ouch )

Getting remarried ( Bliss, bliss, bliss )
Losing my faith
Starting on a new spiritual journey


Movies I've loved during my life and return
to again and again

The Motorcycle diaries
Jean de Florette
Manon des Source
Cinema Paradiso
The sound of Music
Jaws :))
The goodbye girl
Mr Holland's opus

Ok, enough already.