This Year…

My mother was born on Valentine’s Day. Yesterday was her birthday.  My mother loved February because she shared her birthday month with two daughters.

Yesterday was my mother’s birthday but she was not here to celebrate… I could not give my mother a present – but each year I wrote her a little poem for her birthday so here is your birthday poem for this year, Mum…

This Year

On my smart phone this morning
a message:
Yvonne’s Birthday Email Guests
and yes … tomorrow it is
your birthday but this year
I can’t deliver my carefully chosen
gift with a handwritten verse in
the card. This year I can’t see your
face (feigning insouciance) but
delighted to receive words about
yourself. This year we won’t gather
around a table in a Chinese restaurant
with you bossing the waiter in
Cantonese and ordering the most
expensive dishes … two of each…
This year there will be no fancy
gateau from a patisserie in Bondi
(to celebrate three February
no loud arguments and children’s
laughter, no stories about your
life then and now –
This year I stare at my not so smart
phone reminding me that there
is no need to email the guests…

© Anita Patel, 2019


4 thoughts on “This Year…

  1. This is extraordinary. Just today I was teaching a group of women about crone and death. The loss of relationship in one form. and the transformation of relationship to another form…..I love how you love your mother. xxx


    1. Thanks so much dear friend. The mother daughter connection is a complex one. Losing my mother has made me realise so many things about myself and my relationship with her…Love to talk to you about crone and death…x


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