Poof Piece No. 6: Little Bird

A baby bird has the ability to survive without their mother if they’re old enough to be considered a fledgling, with feathers to keep them warm.

As a child, mum would put on "Diva", the 1992 Annie Lennox gem of an album. The sun would soak through the windows, with tiny specs of dust visible in the air and a full Scottish breakfast around the corner as we'd dance and sing along from start to finish whilst doing our Sunday morning chores. I was tasked with cleaning my room and/or vacuuming.

Vacuuming was a task given to me as I once did a great job the year prior so, each time going forward, I'd purposely miss a spot here or there to get out of it in future. There was no chance, unless we had a party at ours then Mum would take the reign.

Whereas now, I stand in my living room playing Annie Lennox and vacuum in pride that is reminiscent of a relationship between an artist and their paint brush.

My mother was an artist, in the literal sense and figurative sense. She painted portraits so life like that it was as if they were taken from a camera. I was transfixed and enamoured by her ability so much so that as a child I would sit with her and paint beside her dreaming of a day that I'd be just as talented as her. She was a rock star to me, she had travelled, had wild experiences, had friends all over and everyone who knew her adored her. Even now, I go to my Dad’s facebook status to see his yearly tribute to her and there was a comment from Mum’s old colleague who said “she was one of those rare souls who was so good at connecting authentically with others. What a treasure”. I was so proud of her and proud to be hers from as young as I could remember.

Susie would have the answers to everything, and if she'd didn't, she would articulate something along the lines of "I don't know but let's find out together" which satisfied my curiosity as this was now an adventure for the two of us to embark on. Even now, with my mental health currently feeling like a game of ping pong at the Olympics I often think "what would mum say to get me out of this headspace?" and the realisation I've recently come to is that it's imperative we acknowledge our power even when we feel powerless.

Much like the lyrics in Annie Lennox's song "Little Bird":

But mamma, I feel so low
Mamma, where do I go?
Mamma, what do I know?
Mamma, we reap what we sow
They always said that you knew best
But this little bird's fallen out of that nest now
I've got a feeling that it might have been blessed
So I've just got to put these wings to test

This is a perfect description of how I'm feeling today. On the 13th anniversary of your passing, it's apparent that it doesn’t get easier however, it's as if that on each year that goes by you gift me with a new realisation. This year being, to trust your voice even when you don’t have the answers.

We all experience trauma differently and for me, after I lost my mum, I didn't trust or allow myself to rely on anyone else in fear that they'd too, leave me. It was easier to do everything myself. This naturally, isn't sustainable and I feel it's time for this little bird to place on the blessed wings gifted by their mother and have trust in their power. Nothing is guaranteed and it's important to take risks, especially one's that’ll challenge you.

Recently I’ve been placed in rooms that I’ve always dreamt of and in situations that I’ve previously and even sometimes now, don’t know how to navigate. But today, although devastating, I know that my mother gifted me with feathers that will forever provide me enough warmth to fly the nest and sore.

Why? Because with or without her, I’ll always be her little bird.

Love,
Sandy x