2 0 1 2
a year under my feet (and theirs), a tradition,
What a year you have been,
at times so full,
and times so spare
tears and joy and
(my goodness more early mornings
and loads of laundry
than the rest of my life combined)
there's beauty to behold in exciting adventures,
a plane ride, train trips,
and the mundane everyday
spotted with beautiful letters,
tea with neighbours,
wide smiles, baby steps,
I think over the months past, what you've taught me,
and what sticks most is this:
I can wait patiently.
I can endure intense pain.
I can trust myself as a mother.
I can love fiercer, brighter, tenderly.
It is possible to survive - and thrive even - on fragmented sleep.
Regular walks are necessary for fresh thoughts, grizzly babes and listless feet.
Catching the light of a new day dawn is a grace and a healer.
Its okay to be vulnerable, Its okay to ask for help.
Loving words from kin, newfound and old, are so important to me.
Many things can be juggled at once, and a good plan helps you do it.
Time is a gift, which worrying and procrastinating would like to steal away with.
There is beauty anywhere you will look for it.
Farewell and goodnight
best year of my life yet...