Tomorrow will be March…

I started to shield on the 6 March last year. I had to go the hospital and I was astounded at how casually people walked past the soap dispenser. I knew we were in a pandemic. So I went to the store on my way home and some shelves were bare. I decided that my socialising would stop.

March is my Dad’s birthday and the anniversary of his death. I found last year so difficult. I hope it will be easier this year. I miss him.

I have been enjoying the warmth of the sun and came up to my bedroom, where it’s streaming in. I am reminded that it’s sunlight through glass that causes most skin cancer, not just too much time in the sun.

I was reflecting on the some of the very bizarre events in my life. Loads happened in California, main due to the nature of my work. But since then there’s been incidents like when I picked up some litter and ended up sitting in a bush. On the way to the hairdresser. Yes, I know.

There’s all the various times I’ve had to be pushed home because my battery ran out. The most bizarre, the prize winning, the totally out there event, was Mike arriving in my bedroom at 3am. “oh, let’s not go that way cos that man got into my room at 3am”, that is not exactly a normal sentence. Neither is, “he invited me over to eat as part of his making amends, and we ended up in the same bed when I asked to be given a blanket”.

None of this is in any way normal, until you add that alcohol is a big factor in his life. The last time I saw him, I thought ‘how sad, he’s heading for a heart attack’. And it really is sad.

By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

2 replies on “Tomorrow will be March…”

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