On turning forty-seven

Other people’s words about … living small

He wasn’t a big man anymore. He wouldn’t be famous, like he’d dreamed as a kid, teaching himself to sign his name in all curved letters so he would be prepared to autograph a football. He would live a small life, and instead of depressing him, the thought became comforting. For the first time, he no longer felt trapped. Instead, he felt safe.

from ‘The Mothers
by Brit Bennett

Each year, as the number of years I’ve lived on this planet grows, I feel my own life shrink in the scheme of things. And to my own surprise, I have come to find this process, in the words of the protagonist in the passage I’ve quoted above, comforting and safe rather than depressing.

Call it ageing …

Small …

… or perspective …

Smaller …

… or necessity.

Smaller still …

Whatever it is — this passage to smallness, this losing yourself within the bigness of the world — can feel downright joyful, you know?

I’m not the only blogger who likes to reflect on their birthdays. I loved this post from Nicole from Eat this Poem , who reads Elizabeth Bishop’s poem ‘The Bight’ each year on her birthday. I had not come across this poem before and am so grateful Nicole has drawn my attention to it. It’s a beautiful poem, definitely worth reading each year (if not more often)!

3 thoughts on “On turning forty-seven

  1. Happy Birthday, Rebecca! I’ve recently stumbled on your blog and bought your book “Leaving Jetty Road” on kindle. I finished it in 2 days and really enjoyed the story! Looking forward to more.

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