In Some Small Way, Isn't It Beautiful?

Actually, life is beautiful because the way you sigh in frustration when your hands do not co-operate with the chord is the same sigh I let out

when my fingers slip off a string.

Life is beautiful because I place my hands in my armpits and wave my arms like a bird – like you and yours – and we laugh and laugh and laugh.

How wonderful the world is when you smile for a picture, complaining about your nose but knowing/trusting/believing that I will find the best angle to make you feel pretty.

How wonderful the feel of your arms wrapping around me as the dog barks at our feet, telling us he needs attention too; telling us that he adores us just as much.

Life is beautiful in the way my brothers ask about you with small secret voices, betraying their worry even on a good day. Love takes many forms, but always settles around concern.

Life is wonderous; havoc-seeking and temperamental (not unlike your children) (not unlike yourself). The lavender bush with the bees was always my favourite.

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I wrote this poem for my mum and gifted it to her for Mother's Day this year (2022). She cried.

I hope you love it just as much as she did.

With Love, C x