Forty Four

A poem about entering midlife

Photo by Maria Ziółkowska on Unsplash

Forty four

Forty four. Standing in the mirrored space between the last
twenty years and the next, understanding that many versions
of my life are no longer ahead of me but hoping many more are
yet to come. 44 is feeling behind at life and wondering if I’ll
ever catch up. Wondering what the world will be for my children.
Relishing the quiet moments in the house before everyone else
gets up, knowing I’ll miss the loud moments before too long.
44 is fantasising about solo trips to Greek islands inhabited
by cats, where I’d write and swim and miss the kids like crazy;
44 is needing a mid afternoon nap and a full day to mentally
prepare for socialising, having a severely diminished capacity
for small talk and no time for drama. 44 is knowing that not
everyone needs to be forgiven. Having reading glasses strewn
about the house and keeping a pair of tweezers in the car
(if you know you know). 44 is having a second glass of wine
with dinner and paying the price; quietly grieving the life I
did not have and falling more deeply in love with the one I did.
44 is magnificent sometimes. Still in the summer of my life but
noticing the leaves start to turn. Staring into the flames of my
anger, letting them burn, seeing what might emerge from the ashes.

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Hi folks,

I haven’t been sharing too much new poetry online these past few months. This has been quite a radical recalibration of my creative life that needed to happen, but this one bubbled up last night and I thought that Substack would be a good place to put it.

There is much to be said for doing the quiet work, but it felt like time to start gently experimenting with sharing work lightly again and not overthinking things!

Also, I guess I wanted to contribute something towards all the great poetry coming out of poetry month on Substack. What’s the best thing about being your age? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

I’ve changed the name of my Substack! I gave this a lot of thought and Moss and Feathers came out on top. For reasons I mentioned in my last newsletter, Dreams from the Field didn’t feel quite right any more, although the offer remains the same. I am creating a safe, slow, nurturing space here, a place where wild things might land and make a home.

If you would like to recieve more poetry and newsletters on creative living, motherhood and living in alignment with nature, a paid subscription would be the best way to support my work. Every reader, follower and subscriber truly keeps me going on the sometimes lonely road of being a creative mum. Thanks for being here :-)

More soon. Love Caroline x