Little Lord Fauntleroy

Here is a picture of our family's own Little Lord Fauntleroy. At first glance, I see a girl. Only on further examination, I realise he is a boy.  

... many generations later, our family brightly embraces LGBQA+ diversity.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

All it takes

All it takes is

Moving from left to right

A swaying of my hips,

A sigh leaving my lips

Unannounced. Such

Yearning... for love,

for a life well lived.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)  

I wish I knew his name

Deep in our family archives is this lone image of a distant relative. A proud soldier in the Canadian Scottish Regiment of WWI. 

Looking into his eyes, the only thing I see is resolve. I would like to know how it found its way there. Why was  he on his way to fighting a war so very far away for those he does not know? What type of stories did he hear to make him willing to leave his life behind? What made him choose possible death over the persuit of a long legacy?

When did we stop believing in personal scarifice for "the good of mankind"?

Looking at this photo I have two thoughts. One is if either of my children made this choice to fight in a war far away, it would break my heart. Secondly, I wish I knew this relative's name.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

My day today

Back pain runs right down
Sitting on a heating pad
One more sigh escapes.

I asked some friends...

What do you no longer do that you did when you were young ?

• Catch fireflies. (I do not even remember how to.)
• Play “how far can you spit“ from our balcony.

• Play football with my brother.

• I was trying to teach Emmalyn how to do a cartwheel, and yeah, it ended up being big on theory, as I can’t actually do one anymore.

• Reading under the blanket with a flashlight.

• Sleepovers at a friend's houses with all my best buddies.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Constant disturbances

My daily struggle
Is my brain whirling around
Open plan office.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Just like that he's there

 

Just like that, he's there
Standing next to his tent with
A war buddy in tow.

My grandfater fought in WWI. He was a motercycle carrier delivering messages on the Front. Or that is what we were told. He never once mentioned this period in his life. 

That is why I was surpised to come upon this photo of him standing in a field of mud in his uniform pants and boots. He looks as if he has just played a game of football with his buddy. It is perhaps hard to see, but there are a field of tents in the background.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)

Soul daddy

My brother, with beard
Silver and sleek, a soul daddy,
Grace in growing old.

(This post is part of my "Growing Up & Growing Old" project.)