Recalled with Thanks

We don’t do Thanksgiving here in Scotland. But we do do giving thanks. (That doesn’t sound right…do do). Anyway…

Today I recollect the day of my mum’s death.

Cheery, I know. But it is, in many ways, because I get to give thanks to her for being my mum, for being who she was and who she still is, living on in my mind and heart.

I get to remember her and all the people I love because that was what she was all about.

She and my dad. Fourteen days from now I get to especially remember him all over again.

I get to think about what mattered to them and how they went about it in their everydayness. I can do that anytime, I know. But today makes me reflect more fully on all that I have to be thankful for, past, present and future.

And because I’m thankful for so many wonderful people in my life and the love that surrounds me I want to pass it on.

Thank you to all who read these pages. And thank you to all my beautiful guests who carried this blog for the month of November. I really struggle to find words of apt appreciation. You showed love and I love you for it.

Thank you all.x

 

Happy New Year

We recollect the year,

Those loved and lost,

Decisions, right and wrong,

We count the cost

In growth and worth,

Another year in passing

In friendships, families,

All love amassing,

In trials, tribulations,

Fought and won,

All effort poured in faith,

This year near done.

Some hours now

To ponder life anew,

No promises, just

Hope and love renew.

Confidence in

Coming days ahead,

Constancy, belief,

No sense of dread.

A providential one,

A year filled with

New treasure,

I wish you this and more

In heartfelt measure.

Happy New Year, dear

Friends of WordPress,

May all your dreams come true,

Your lives be blest. x

Trashed

Two hours to muse

And trash, peruse.

Mags that dish the dirt.

Callous words and pictures,

Designed to cut and hurt.

 

Celebrities, I know not names,

Their efforts grant

Esteem and fame

And public humiliation.

 

Her hair’s a mess,

Look at her dress,

What a fright she looks!

Women mostly, though

Some men, warrant

Inclusion in these books.

 

I never see these mags at all

Except when hair needs gutting

Colour, style and, all the while,

Not just my hair gets cutting.

 

I know that some seek publicity,

Any type at all,

So, fair game seems to be the name

Of reporters; a free-for-all.

 

Rebuke and trash,

Cameras flash,

Perhaps they’re photoshopped.

I’m just so glad

That I’m not one whose name

Is lifted and then dropped.

 

An awful life,

Though some may think

Fame is worth the fortune,

But picked and prodded,

Talked about

Would be my cup of poison.

 

Mr Wilde was wrong.

 

Video reading Trashed