I cannot wait to be Evee in my new life, and for Katie to be Katie in hers. I am ready for it now.
Hopefully you have something to look forward to! It will be lovely to hear your thoughts 🤍
All the plays and displays of light I see I see in a day.
‘Gently, My Mother’ is a small poem I wrote on a sunny Friday which made me miss my own quite terribly.
You will become what you deserve, my friend.
Now is the season, the time of the year towards the end of January and the beginning of February, that I get catapulted from a time of bith celebrations, into the furnace of grief – to go back through the smithing process again, for refinement.
But that’s grief, isn’t it? It comes when you least expect it. When you find a video you sent to your mum, of you in a pyjama set she bought you, tucked in a bed she kissed you goodnight in, cuddling the cat you both loved so much together.
The very first photo is my lovely mum in a blue ballgown, taken on the 14th of September, 2013. I would have been 13. The royal blue of Mum’s dress brightens and flaunts her clear blue eyes. A faint, hesitant smile has only aged 7 years with fondness and love. Her hair is short, and slightly messy. I love it, but I can imagine mum brushing her fingers through it only moments beforehand.
I would say I’m a very resilient person. Katie often says that nothing phases me, and my Mum would often say I take everything in my stride. I often say that as long as I have a good playlist going, I can do anything I need to or want to.
Quarantine lately had been getting the best of me.