Letters From Lockdown 9: Mary Morris

Today is my Mum’s birthday. To all those who share this day, I hope you can celebrate knowing that you, too, are truly amazing…


You’ve let me have tantrums and squabbles around your birthday cake. Never let me go hungry or cold. Surrounded me with colour and magic and watched me take my first steps. You showed me that to get what I wanted I should embrace myself.  You gifted me with your red shoes. You’re a bread maker and tummy bug killer. Shared your socks and the last scoop of ice cream. You’re a giver of literature and poorly phrased jokes. Elixirs mixed from peonies and olive oil. You cradled me from earthquakes. Showed me high- filled Fridays and heart- filled Sundays. You still have stashes of emergency tampons, even though you no longer need them. Our arguments have shaped the course of history. Biscuits were consumed before sunrise because my bed was empty. Hair now down passed my shoulders; you wipe strands away from my tear-stained face. You knew instantly. You tell me I drink too much. I say you love too fiercely.

You haven’t slept in over twenty- three years.

And tomorrow you’ll do it all again.

But today is your day. Your day to be whoever you want to be. Today you are you.

And may we become you, so we never, ever have to part from you.

Happy Birthday. This one’s for you.

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