Big shoes…

Quietly

I notice

One of the verbs of me

 

The becoming,

The familiarity

of embedded patterns,

hiding themselves in plain sight and

forgotten; woven between the subconscious and the links of dusty DNA –

Brushed off and ready for another round

of motherhood.

 

And gradually

my own mothering memories cocooned in nostalgia

These soft-edged replays

Of careful kindnesses and strained patience

Of steadfast believing-in-me with secret sacrifices

Of space-less snuggles and laugh-out-loud adventures

Now star myself

 

The actors morph

And now it is my own voice; but is it?

My own flaws; but are they?

My own laughter; but is it?

My own human attempt at love; but is it?

And I am suddenly grateful

 

That in my own rocky road to mastering motherhood

Where days stretch and failures amass

I can step, unashamedly

into the patterns of my own mother’s making

The good, the bad; but mostly the warm

And surprisingly the shoes fit

Almost perfectly

Just a few sizes too big

3 responses to “Big shoes…

  1. Catherine Carr

    A beautiful reflection, and tribute to your own beautiful Mum.😍

  2. Oh I loved this. Thanks Kim x

  3. Thanks Kirsten. After I wrote this, I thought of the many women-who-are-mums I know who have lost their own mothers too early. Love to you x

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