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I Saw The Figure Forty-Five

I am 45 today.  Perhaps not the Big 40, or indeed, 50 - or any later numero grande - but enough to make me wake up early and smell the coffee (then drink Roibos Tea instead).  It helps that London is undergoing a Mediterranean Spring - it seems we are facing days of full sun and temperatures in the 20s.  I have been taking stock lately, and I count myself lucky to be here, today.  I am pleased as punch to be at this mid-stage, and still standing.

Five years ago, we all went through hell in my family as my Dad died of brain cancer.  Shortly thereafter, three  of my closest family members died.  Then, three years ago, I received news that I had a rare condition (not one I want to write of here today, but suffice it to say I explore it in my poems these days) which changed the dreams of my wife and I forever.  My heart broke, and I became very ill with esophagitis, and depression.  Fortunately, my wife assembled a crack medical team, and after two years of treatment or so, I am able to work again, and write, and teach, and enjoy most things I used to.  True, there's no more caffeine, chocolate, alcohol, or orange juice in my diet, but I found replacements for those, and forged ahead.

At 45, I guess I once wanted other things - maybe a large family, maybe more literary success.  The last few years allowed me to mellow, and yes, mature.  I now realise a few things.  Be glad for whatever life throws your way, and don't expect any favours from fate.  And - anyone who writes poems for anything other than love of the art is barking up the wrong hat-stand.

I am turning in my PhD dissertation in the next few months.  I have a job I enjoy.  A fantastic partner.  A faith that is stuttering back to life in fits and starts.  Spotify to bring a million songs.  Great friends and contacts all over the world.  And several poetry collections on the way, in my native Canada.

In my darkest hours, about 18 months ago, I never imagined that I'd ever have two poems in Poetry magazine.  That I'd be jogging in the sunlight.  That I'd ever be happy again.

That's being blessed.

Comments

Padhraig Nolan said…
Happy Birthday Todd. Well done on getting through a heckload of crap. Didn't know about Poetry - kudos! Hope you enjoy the day.
Nick said…
A post to gladden the heart. Happy birthday Todd.
Jeffrey Side said…
Yes, Happy Birthday Todd. You certainly have been through a lot the past five years, on top of all the crap poetry has thrown at you. Like football, poetry is, indeed, a harsh mistress.

Here's to a more happy and contented next five years.
richard lopez said…
todd, i am a frequent visitor here and posted a couple of comments before, and tho i don't know you in the flesh i've come to know you, a bit, thru the aether of this blog and thru poetry. this is a lovely post, and reading it makes me glad to be alive too. we are of the same generation, i'm 43, and think too that the love of life, family and poetry are all that matters. hang in there and have a happy birthday.
Poetry Pleases! said…
Dear Todd

Many Happy Returns! Pleased to hear that you're on the mend and can still do most of the things that you used to.

Best wishes from Simon & Rusty
Brockeim said…
Happy birthday. I've lurked for around a year.

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