I turned 57 recently. I spent the day alone and not many people messaged me (my father forgot, but that’s par for the course) and I had a good cry and I was sad. It was not a happy birthday. There. I said the thing. Now I’m going to tell you why this is OK…
Welcome, beautiful boy
A year ago today I was standing in front of the Mona Lisa in the Louvre museum in Paris with my daughter, speaking to my ex-partner (my daughter's father) via FB Messenger, reassuring him and telling him to take deep breaths, to trust the doctors, and to have faith. He was about to witness the…
When You Are 50
When You Are 50 When you are 50, you are reborn. The same skin, the same face, the same body, but different. You are in the next half, now. You cannot waste a moment. When you are 50, you love this face, this skin you’re in. You love that quick temper, that wild laugh, those…
Before You
Once upon a time (actually, ten years ago today) I screamed and swore my way through 24 hours of excruciating labour before a disturbingly cheerful surgeon sliced open my stomach at 3am and pulled out a tiny wailing creature who would prevent me from sleeping/weeing on my own/having any peace/existing as an autonomous adult for…
Brightness
It is Miss B's birthday today. I wrote her a poem not long ago (see "My daughter's bedside, 3am." Today, however, I bow to the superior talent of New Zealand poet Denis Glover (Dec 1912 - Aug 1980). For you, my darling daughter. Happy Birthday. Brightness I am bright with the wonder of you And the…
Patricia Bell, Author 