Big, humungous apologies to everyone following here for the lack of updates recently! However, I have been very busy behind the scenes, and if you’ve missed me here I’ve been trying to gather the interests of those in the Facebook and Twitter social lands too!
Anyway, lots (and I mean lots!) of photography images to catch up on sharing with you all. There was debate on whether to let it rain images on you all in one go, or spread them out. However, as those that tweet seem to really be taking to the latest, let’s start there and work backwards tomorrow!
This is ‘The Last Sunset’ (Photography by Rose-Sky Journey Pieces, July 2017.)
If you’ve got any big news about you, your blogs, or what you would like to see next on this blog, shout out and let me know!
Today, dear mini me marks the anniversary since your birth, another birthday clocked up. Time is going all too quickly as I think back to those labouring hours, to how now you stand proud and tall at nearly my shoulder height. I didn’t get the birth I planned, but we got the birth that you needed. You rocked up into our world two weeks early, and despite protests from those at the hospital that I wasn’t in labour and I had instead a urine infection, you my little determined one was born 9 hours later. There’s me ready to doubt my own body, because over and over, even after the waters broke we were told we were not doing labour that night, yet here we are celebrating your birthday in June and not July! Your determination and head-strong antics have continued and served you well ever since.
There are things that I will say here, that won’t concern you now, today, or this year. It’s what I’m thinking, and not what will be said out loud. For my first wish for you, is to not taint your childhood, innocent view of the world, now or ever. I wish that you can continue to be surprised, grateful and inspired by the smallest of things. When you’re collecting leaves and flowers on the way to and from school, my plight is not to stop you, but to stop the home owners that may grumble at your collection techniques. I wish too, that we all were noticing the different leaves, rather than zig-zagging our way through lives with to-do lists in tow.
This past week or so, I have worried and contemplated on whether I have brought the right presents. Whether there was enough. Not that I want you to be spoilt, although it’s your special day. As you’ve grown, the presents have grown too, so whilst the number has gone down, and the unwrapping time reduced, the thought, the saving up remains the same. My heart sank when announced you didn’t think you would get many presents, and when I asked what you counted as many you said 50. I knew you weren’t serious, but the mummy guilt kicked in. Tempting as it was to go all out, to blow everything, I hope one day you can be grateful that unlike many in this world, we still have a roof over our heads, and food in our bellies. Today you announced it was the best day of your life, your best birthday ever, and you loved me so much. I captured the look on your face as you opened your presents, and the smile from the smallest hamster eraser up to your main present. My second wish for you is to remain as grateful and appreciating as you were this morning, every day. Your smile melted away those mummy fears in an instant.
That smile, please don’t let any take that smile away from you. The way you smiled at your presents, to getting excited over everything, all the time. A smile to say I love you, a smile over catching a spider, that smile over the first fish you caught, or over what your pet has done now. It doesn’t matter what you wear, if you’re wearing that proud smile everyone notices, the same as your laugh. My third wish is that you will find something to smile about always.
As we count another birthday, it strikes me that we are one closer to adulthood. That the number of summers left until your 18th are dwindling, and that in a decade, probably less you might not care for my wonky home-made cakes, or tea parties any more. I’ll be sending you out into the big wide world. One that today, recently, looks scary, uncertain and mean. One that I can’t explain fully when you ask why that’s happened, or it’s happened again. Spending time making sure that what you can see on the television, the computer is protecting you from most of what’s out there. Yet soon, I won’t be able to do that full time, and you’ll be able to see everything, the good and the bad of this place called Earth. My fourth wish for you is that you never have to experience or see some of the horrors that this planet has. That you may help others when you can, and that you remain true to you. Shout out for what you believe in, have an opinion, raise your voice. Talk for those who might otherwise be silenced. Don’t let the world change you, but be prepared to work to change your corner of the world, whatever it’s size.
The fifth and final wish for you on your birthday is that you know there is always a mummy here. When it drops to just being mum, I’ll still be there. When you’re too cool to hold hands in the street, I’m still there. No matter where you are, or what you do, there’s also a little me here whether it be for a hand to hold, or an ear to chew. I’m there, with wonky cakes in tow too.
Wishing the mini me a great birthday, full of all those wishes, smiles, laughter and more.
Yes you reading this. You, as in the younger me. You, as in the reporters, the writers the social media shakers and makers.
You are enough. As you. Just you. Not you after weight loss. Not you plus fillers, creams and filled dermal needles. Not you in that fashion that costs more than most pay for rent. Just you, always just be you.
You with your quirky smile. Hey you over there who has aced making cakes, or the one that always manages to remember everyone’s birthdays. Even when no one remembers yours. You that takes the fall for your colleagues, the one that works more unpaid over time than hours on the clock. Yep, you’re there, you are still enough.
You, the mother, the new parent with a new bundle of responsibility to support. You are enough, just as you are. No matter the rebound to pre-baby weight, how you fed, how you gave birth. Because I’ll let you into a secret, every parent has worries, and can make mistakes. You are enough, for you, for your child, for your family. Be there, be present as you.
To the teen wondering where to go, you are enough. To those grades which life revolved, you are also enough. Those thinking they can’t carry on, you are enough.
You that may cry yourself to sleep, that hides fears or illness from everyone. To those with medical conditions that we can’t see, and you don’t feel like explaining for the hundredth time this week, I see you too. The ones feeling lonely, or can’t say they have friends. Waking up not able to remember the last time you spoke to someone, anyone, no phone calls, no texts, no visits, I see you too.
I see the ones that just go about their day, no big loud voices or luck thrown their way. The ones choosing between heating and food. Everything crossed for not another benefit cut, I see you too. Those that know the chill of the park bench at night, you are enough too. The ones praying for any good news. I can hear the tears of those finding out their worlds have imploded by another part of the world news. You, so scared for one or many reasons of your life, that you don’t notice whether your socks are matching, or your roots have been done. You that choose to block out the horror that life has dished you out with the party charade, the tipples, or illegal highs. I see you with the happy social media pretence too, if only they could see the real, not selfie you. The middle of the night, the waking up, the hard working, the thoughtful, the quiet and sad sides of you. You are enough too.
Then I see you, the reporters in tow. Telling me how X has lost this much weight, or how bad Y looks with their weight loss or gain. Informing me between news of lives lost, most importantly about the designer dress that one chose to wear, or that a certain celeb only spent £20 on their latest swimwear. Adverts and articles for looking younger, looking slim, spending money on looks rather than healthy eating and the gym. Please remember when you are reporting that some that you highlight have the money, the time, and the experts to get every waking moment just right. I also see the ones that you hound and judge, not able to eat even a cookie crumb without fear of you photographing a bloated tum.
So, what do you see? When you see me, when you see people in the streets? What do you look at for qualities in your friends and foe, what do you see when the media updates the celeb news? Can you see beyond the looks, the make-up, the clothes. Could you spot that person struggling to stay afloat? Could you praise manners, kindness, voluntary actions instead of who has kissed who on televised actions. I challenge you, the reader, the person described above, the future me, the media creators, to find something positive to say or think about everyone you meet. About everyone you write about, or photograph care free.
For nobody knows what lies beneath, what one might be thinking, or where their story has been.
They walk passed weekly, daily, hourly with eyes that stared straight through. The expressions go from lively, jovial to blank. A change that says it all. Stone walled faces, eyes hardened to what they really see. Ears that pretend to not hear, maybe those ear phones or pretend calls mask the shadow’s calling. Stiffened lips, pursed tightly closed, not a hello, a grunt nor a groan.
Sometimes, their footsteps and pace will quicken. Too busy to stop, for being busy is a reason for their reaction to be excused. Meal times frustrating, as you see the others stuffing faces. You can plan your next diet craze whilst consuming super size calories. Don’t worry, a shadow will sit, and pray for a crumb, a mere morsel. They won’t speak out as you throw that half sandwich, clear your fridge of out of date leftovers.
Pull your coat around tighter, the scarf higher up. Seek out those gloves that hide in that shiny clutch. Change your boots with the seasons, as they move again. From shadow to corner, and back again. Don’t worry my friend, they won’t ruin your trend. You moan about heat, and then about cold. The shadows’ fashion rail is within that black plastic bag. Shadows that shiver within the night breeze, red finger tips, cold noses, the shadow can’t breathe.
They worry about friends, about gossip or the latest soap story news. Is their make-up on point, did their crush see their new shoes. I will lurk as you talk, without making a sound. My worries the same, only now further down the to-do’s. Adrenaline rushes as they finish their night out, my life already fight or flight without their beer fuelled remarks. Will I survive the night, what do I smell like, can I see sunlight? When I wake I am grateful for not watching that show, but that I survived, alive, with no attack, no bin bags removed.
Walk passed me, walk passed them, it does not matter, we are not friends. I would not show my tears, in fact when one police officer will question that shadow, their help will be refused. Too much pride to crumble, to share with you all. A stiff upper lip to keep the bleak truths from being revealed. The shadows they see, they hear it all. They watch, knowing that most won’t want to, or can’t make a difference at all. You could confirm that you can see the shadows, that they are there, not ghosts or made-up fairy tales. A smile, a hello, a warm drink in hand. Something, anything rather than the embarrassed charades.
Because what if one day, you woke up to, realising the shadow was now you?
This is in response to the photo challenge : evanescent. Link to the photo challenge is above.
This moment won’t be here again. Of course I will hold your hand many times over, I hope to, I want to, in some cases, I will have to. This is not the end of holding hands. But it won’t be the same, not exactly. This moment is only now, the present, and in the future, the photographed memory.
You see my child, your fingers will never quite be the same again. Your fingers, your hands, the size of your tiny palms, will never be this small again. Every time we hold hands, to love or to protect, there’s that invisible growth. It will happen every time, for days, weeks, months, then years. Until one day, you won’t want or need to hold my hand any more. That time when your hand might very well be the same size, or even bigger than my own.
They will transform from the hands that dig to create mud holes, to hands that articulate well. From throwing food to cooking food. From baby nail clippings to nail varnish decorations, from those that need caring, to those that do care. Perhaps your hands with you will travel the world, they will articulate what spoken words can not. They may work hard for you, or help to ascertain your own creative talents.
But to me, your little hands and little fingers as evanescent as they may be, there will always be a space for them waiting here with me.
‘You can complain because roses have thorns, or you can rejoice because thorns have roses.’
A new close-up image for you all this weekend, enjoy! This week I’ve been busy continuing the latest mini photography project of ‘What do you see?’. I’ve also been creating hand-painted art, and a gift box idea with a twist! I’ll be doing an update post later on this weekend. If you would like to see more, I’m also on Facebook – http://www.facebook.com/rsjourneypieces and Twitter – @rsjourneypieces ! You can get in touch with me through this site, Facebook, Twitter, or e-mail to firstname.lastname@example.org .
Life is a journey. A journey made up of several experiences, steps and pieces along the way, not one. Each piece is as important as the last and the next, each one tells a story, to express, to give, to keep. Creating art, photography, crafty gifts with poetry and ramblings along the way!