Kuljit Kaur Grewal, prompted by the birth of her daughter, begins to ‘prune’ her life’s worries and reassess her feelings in a deeper and more profound manner.
Ageing wisdom
Staring at the ceiling, I recall these same eyes once scrutinised the works of Gaudi,
Whereas these fingers once caressed the slick steering wheel of an Audi.
Now neither function at their best as reading glasses perch on the bridge of my nose,
And my swollen joints ache as Gout has taken hold of my toes.
A chill in the air makes me button up my frilly nightgown.
These bosoms now retired from their nursing days as breastmilk was once letdown,
Now they stand testament to gravity as the reality of menopause reared its ugly head,
With the hot flushes and sleep disturbances cursing one to a restless bed.
My wedding ring flashes in the sunlight, witness to the vows recited in our prime,
Till death do us part was but a distant memory for exchange of this dime.
For cancer was the culprit that separated two connected souls,
Allowing one to depart contently whilst the other made peace with these four walls.
For on that day, desolation was my only companion as he uttered his last breath,
The morning newspaper and a cup of tea was his morning routine until his untimely death.
Now the newspapers pile up in an unceremonious clutter,
As I refuse to allow them to be disposed of until I hear his angelic mutter.
Now as the days merge into one another I pass time submerged in my memories,
Tracing the outlines of my glass menagerie set and ornamental accessories.
For each figurine has sentimental value and an associated sacred story,
Take for example the horseshoe trinket gifted on my wedding day reminds me of the day’s grandeur and glory,
The glass angel figurine was always to be handled with care, a tiny delicate thing,
I bought this after my miscarriage to console my heart, if only God hadn’t gifted him wings.
Now in this large house I potter along surrounded by my child’s memorabilia,
each a prized relic that tell the childhood tale of my daughter Amelia.
For now she too has flown the nest and is navigating the journey of motherhood,
Teaching her offspring good discipline whilst lavishing their innocent childhood.
The doorbell rings announcing the arrival of the weekly shopping,
I open the door to welcome the delivery man who is fast in his hasty dropping.
To be able to move so agilely was a blessing in itself allowing one a prompt attendance,
as nowadays I rely on my walking stick as my friend to sustain my independence.
I fish through the shopping searching for my trusted marmalade as that spread on toast is my favourite meal,
Whereas once it was a Sunday roast, bargaining with the little one to finish her vegetables was always quite an ordeal!
Now with my sparse teeth I slobber through what I can,
For whatever quenches the hunger pangs is better than munching pecans.
I glance outside the window watching life go by, the moving vehicles and laughter of children is a merry sight,
wishing to be that nine-year-old boy that lavishes his ice cream with such delight.
Remembering that every day was a blessing of this fulfilling life,
As one is unable to be reborn and relive it twice.
So enjoy the good with the bad as every life is a glorious celebration,
For once we enter the casket we are at our final destination.
Life’s Pruning by Kuljit Kaur Grewal is available now in paperback.