It could be worse…


It could be worse.

My mantra, that is so passed it, it should of been binned by now; swept away like the moldy crumbs in the bread bin; the little specs of green that weren’t letting any seeded artisan loaf last passed a Wednesday. Sometimes it wouldn’t last because due to nutella calling it’s name; I was there, the bread was there and the nutella had been knifed… all very dramatic and murder she wrote-esque.

Always look on the bright side, another phrase ingrained from the age of 7 by the man who left us to live. To live without being weighed down creatively by 3 kids and a stepford wife. He went in search of the bright side instead of realising the lights he already had.

The sparkler of a daughter, hypnotizing and humble; the one who fizzled out on many interested and ventures. The one who had the thirst for life and would just light another match when she was so easily stamped out.

The study light of a son, always curious, slightly careless but cared none the less; Sometimes more than he should or the person was even worthy of.

Then the last, the subtle string of fairy lights, not the brightest but the magic and Hygge were found here.  Emerald eyes of the youngest that hoped if she keep her magic alive he would come back and realise… she never did finish that sentence. She was unsure of what he needed to realise or why on that autumn night he even had to leave.

Mother was there. I can’t describe her brightness, it’s just there. Always. I’m yet to see her fade even slightly, she simply glows morning, noon and forever nightly.

Our household was run by a list even before that night, the simple bullet point was not taken away. Live with a list and never worry, that was the way and her bit of advice on a bad day; list the good things they always out number the bad.

Yes I get that but the weight is never the same for each bullet point on that list. I could have one thing weighing me down and 25 helium balloons filled with good trying to pull me up to the clouds, but their only success is keeping my body upright.

Then you are still winning, still standing as someone once sung; so stop trying to give up when you haven’t even begun.

I write lists and send them to her now from the little flat in town. Every week without fail just so she knows things are alright and my life still had some light. Even though I am not in love, Adam is kind, caring and treats me right, I could have it worse like the man next door who gets a daily right hook from his wife.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s