A Quick Word... On Turning 21

I read once that Stephen King wrote every day of the year except his birthday and Christmas - and then a page later he apologised for being a liar and not wanting to sound like a dork - truthfully he writes on both those days too.

My birthday blog is becoming a bit of a tradition now, and one that I hope to continue. I don't know, there's a lot going on on the 31st of January for me, sometimes a writing break brings it all into focus. This year, it's come out as a poem. A gift for you. I hope you enjoy it.

- L

21

when I was born I was selfish.

I forced my way into the world kicking and screaming

and I stayed that way for as long as they'd let me

wailed and moaned until I got what I wanted

demanded attention to my every need

and was loved for it.

they lavished me with gifts and toys

they smiled and they held me

and they told me i was beautiful.

a little miracle.

and some days still i am that creature

and i demand to be praised

and i demand to be loved

and i am arrogant and stubborn and selfish again.

but like that baby who i recognise and yet do not remember

the world

my parents first

and then my friends

show me a love far more powerful than giving in to my demands

and teach me to be better than that.

now I fend my own way on this treacherous earth

and now i have become better than that baby in a hundred different ways.

i do not pretend to be perfect of course

that mewling infant is still inside me somewhere

caged though he may be

and sometimes still he rattles the bars

and i speak with his voice

and i judge with his eyes

and i turn friend into enemy with a careless tongue.

but i am learning to pacify him,

and while i don't deserve their friendship or help

my companions continue to lead me down the hard road of life

collecting me when i stumble

lifting me when i fall

guiding me when the path branches in directions i cannot fathom.

and the baby will perhaps forever bang his chubby hands against my resolve

but i will not yield and look back on my mistakes as righteous and bold

and my indiscretions as the proper course.

21 years is not long enough for learning all the lessons of life

and i know the road ahead will be steep and rocky

and that the shadows of darkness will always loom over me.

and maybe it would be easier if someone carried me

and fed me

gave me the praise and love i demanded

and told me that i was a little miracle

once again.

but the baby has had his years

and now it is time to be a man.