By now, I should be an old hand at new beginnings. I’ve learned to recognise those ‘watershed moments’ before they arrive. First time was losing my mum as a child; no way I could have seen that coming; no way that anything would ever be the same again, afterwards.
Then it was moving away from my one-horse town to the big cities: Manchester, Newcastle, London. I always felt the magnetic pull back towards my old home until my son was born: next chapter. I embraced London as our home, and became like a child again: riding on double-decker buses just for fun, visiting museums, making an adventure out of every day.
Moving abroad was the next chapter: London-Barcelona. Losing my voice. I had very few Spanish words, so I spent every spare minute trying to acquire a functional vocabulary. All the while I was falling in love with this city of dreams and its surroundings. Then came my second baby: next chapter. Adjusting to life as a mother-of-two. Moving again to Malaga province, another new world. And just as I began adjusting once again, another change of country, new horizons opening:
birth of a new life
marks an event horizon
watershed as tears
Written for dVerse Poets’ Pub, where Lillian is hosting and has given us the following prompt:
Please write about some new beginning you’ve experienced in your lifetime. It could be a new job; your wedding; birth of a child or grandchild; a move; rejuvenatement (never say retirement); planting a new garden or the first blooms in your garden; tasting a new food; experiencing a new culture. Anything along the lines of a new beginning that you’ve experienced.
I am not a haiku expert, so I’m not sure if I have included a correct kigo or seasonal reference – but I hope that ‘birth’ might be acceptable as a reference to spring, itself a metaphor for a new beginning in our lives.