I write this poem with extreme thanks for the blessed life that I’ve led, a carefree childhood and loving family. I recognize that Mother’s Day isn’t rainbows and butterflies for many people: mothers that have lost their children, children that have lost their mothers, broken families, reality. Even in my family, there’s an element of sadness on this day. My parents buried their first child when she was 16 months old. This is also the first Mother’s Day since my Grandma Genny died.
It’s easy to forget that many many emotions surround this day and where one family smiles another might cry. It’s important to empathize and take a moment to think about the true weight of this day. I find it allows me to appreciate what I have that much more. I’m beyond thankful to be filled with so much love.
I love you, Mom.
I like the freedom of Sunday mornings, that I could sleep indefinitely if I wanted, that I can waste the morning making pancakes and then eat them in bed. I rarely make plans for Sundays, just drift through the day and see what happens, let who I see be a surprise.
Sometimes all you need is a hug.
I can’t explain why it’s my favorite word. It’s something to do with how romantic it sounds and all the connotations it holds, both good and bad. It’s animalistic and peaceful. It’s simple and loaded with meaning. It’s perfect. Say it and listen to it’s beauty: unfurl. What’s your favorite word?
Today was certainly a Monday. Unfurl a little tonight.
Almond butter creme filled dark chocolate #vegan #notsharing
That was my Monday. Bring it, Tuesday.
Every Saturday I eat lunch at the same place. The entire staff knows my name and my regular order. I can’t tell you how many poems I’ve posted on here have been scribbled while eating a Frida burger with headphones in my ear, downing cup after cup of their delicious fruit infused water. I feel inclined to say this one’s no exception, except it is. I didn’t even eat the day I wrote this. I opted for a smoothie. I don’t know what that means or why I felt I needed to share my dietary habits, but maybe there’s a significance to it.
Regardless, this poem is inspired by Love is a Story’s cover of “Hide and Seek” originally by Imogen Heap. I must have listened to it 10 times on repeat in the course of writing this poem and in those minutes of absolute focus, I wasn’t in Fridas Deli anymore. I was skipping through daydreams. That’s why I love writing: there aren’t any rules.
Have a great Sunday and come back next week for more musically inspired poetry!
Today’s one of those anniversaries I’d rather not celebrate. It’s a day that commemorates the moment my life changed 13 years ago, a day I lost a little bit of my childhood innocence, forced to grow up in the car ride to the hospital. I try not to pout or draw attention to my situation on the regular because self-pity is as unattractive a vice as any, but if there’s one day I’ll let the tears fall, it’s today, D-Day, March 26th, the day I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.
If you see a T1D today, give them a hug for me. Let them know you care. This disease is more grueling than you can imagine, more relentless than meets the eye, and more life-threatening than we dare to admit. Though we may not let our vulnerability show, I promise, your love and support means the world.